Mocha Latte with Extra Heroin
by L'il Senzu
Summary: After Mimi's death, Mark and Roger aren't exactly getting along. Mark makes some new friends who become a bad influence. Despite the OCs, focus of fic is on Mark and Roger. 3rd POV. slash. POSTRENT. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

This is my second RENT fic. I just discovered this genre this year, and have become recently obsessed with it, and Mark/Rogers. I have not seen an actual production of the play, but I own RENT the movie, and I've read a play script online, I plan to read the script again sometime soon, to make sure I'm getting all the facts straight.

If I ever make an important mistake (if I say Collins is teaching at NYU and hes actually doing something else somewhere elseor something) let me know, or if the characters are very OOC, let me know, and I'll do my best to remedy the mistake. My girlfriend usually helps me when I'm unsure about fics, but since this fic is from a challenge she gave me, she refuses to help me, so I actually wouldnt mind having a Beta, if anyone is interested...not that I know how that whole Beta things works, I just know they help.

Updates for this will probably be few and far between, just to let you guys know beforehand, because lets face it, I am a fanfiction whore: I get around, and most of my time is spent reading…plus I'm currently finishing off my senior year of high school AND taking college classes at the local university at the same time, so I bear a heavy homework load…fortunately my college finals are in three weeks, and after that all I've got is high school, so I'll have more free time to write.

Okay, thiswhole fic issomething completely new for me, but I guess that's the whole point. It's a challenge fic, I guess. My girlfriend, Lillia challenged me. Basically, we were talking and I told her that she's a good mary sue and sap writer, but there was no way she'd actually be able to write something serious and/or smut, with no mary sues and without angsting it all up. She's out trying to prove me wrong right now in the That 70's Show section, but in response to my 'challenge' that I didn't mean to be a challenge, just an insult, she challenged me.

This was it:

"Write a fic that has an original character in it, not necessarily a mary sue but extra points if she is, and she can't just be a side character, she has to be a main one. The fic has to be angsty at some point. Basically, if you don't think I can write something without a mary sue that's still good, I don't think you can write something good with a mary sue."

That's it…pretty vague huh? I'm pretty happy about that, because I can work with this. Not only am I going to write about a mary sue, I'm going to load as many OCs in this bitch as I can. What now, bitch? She made a mistake leaving her challenge so vague. I'm going to write this my way. Basically, here's the summary:

After Mimi's death, Mark and Roger aren't getting along. Mark makes new friends who become a bad influence. Despite the OCs, the fic is focused around Mark and Roger.

Short summary, I know, but I don't want to give any of it away… things areNOT going to stay this simple.

**Warnings:** SLASH, profanity, drug use, in later chapters smut…basically, its going to get interesting. Rating will also eventually go up. Also, there is the Mary Sue who isn't. I'm new at writing OCs, but I'm going to try my best to have her at least ½ way respectable. Then of course, I could give her some very marysueish characteristics just to piss Lillia off when I manage to pull it off well. Heehee I love making her mad.

So here it is, oh, this first chapter is just a prologue…the rest of the fic is not going to be written in this style, this is like a 3rd POV summary of events leading up to the fic.

Prologue Summary

Mimi was dead. She had gotten sick after the winter and never really recovered. She passed slowly. She was given enough time to say her final farewells over the summer and the rest of the Family was given plenty of time to accept it before she actually went. She died peacefully one night, in the fresh, early days of autumn. Everyone agreed that it was a good death, if such a thing exists.

Roger, having had a long time to adjust, took her passing moderately well. He was still not himself for a while afterwards. Mark took it stoically, just like always. He knew that he couldn't break. He was the rock in the Family, the one everyone else could lean on. But inside, he was going through a lot.

Mimi's death meant a lot of things to him, the loss of a friend, the fact that life was short, the fact that Collins and Roger were going to die… the fact that he would be alone. True, he had Maureen and Joanne and Benny… but Maureen and Joanne were usually too wrapped up in each other for anything else and Benny had become a dick.

Ever since Mimi's death, Roger had been different towards Mark. His previously short temper was even shorter and he somehow managed to become even more withdrawn. Instead of improving as time passed, his new attitude seemed to get worse with time. Although he tried, Mark couldn't figure out what was wrong and any attempts he made to find out or make it right only seemed to make things worse. So he did what he did best, just put up with it silently, but inside both of them had to know Mark Cohen could only take so much.


	2. Trouble Cafe

Well, here is the first actual chapter where we meet the dreaded OC…damn Lillia and her cute ass for making me do this! Anyways, don't forget that the focus of this fic is on Roger and Mark. I will do my best with the OCs.

Oh, and for anyone who likes to write, I currently have something up called Challenge Central and it is basically 15 RENT story challenges that my girlfriend and I have put out there for anyone to write. Plus, if we get more than one entry for a challenge it becomes a contest and the winner gets GLORY, and everyone and Roger loves glory...we'll also give you virtual brownies…maybe even virtual _special_ brownies if that's what you prefer. Its under my penname, so check it out, please. We would really, really love it if we got more entries for it. (It has been reported but remains up and you can't get reported for writing for it).

So here's the first chapter. I accept any flames and criticisms, and if I make any mistakes please correct me in a review. I love any kind of reviews, by the way. I've got the next chapter partially written, but I really feel I could get it out a lot faster if I was greeted by a few reviews the next time I check my email ;) Oh and I wrote this originally in 3rd POV, changed it to Mark's POV, thinking it would work betters, but then realized I liked it better in 3rd…which is new for me, most of my stuff is written in the characters POV, but I'm going to keep giving it a shot…I may change POVs later in the story if I feel it would work better. Oh, and _Italics_ are Mark's thoughts.

The Trouble Café

Mark shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He wasn't used to walking around without his camera in his hands, but he had left in such a rush he had forgotten it… it didn't really matter though; it wasn't like he felt like filming anyways.

Roger and he had had another fight. He wasn't even exactly sure what had caused this one; he was just tired of the yelling so he had left. Now he found himself walking down Avenue C, without a coat, scarf or camera. Despite the cold, he found himself missing the latter the most; he was used to having the reassuring weight in his hands. He winced as a sharp wind picked up, stinging his face and making him realize that he missed the other two as well. It was early January and rather cold outside, so he decided that he needed somewhere warm to calm down in.

After walking a couple blocks, he noticed a small coffee shop that he had never seen before. He wasn't surprised; it was just a small door with a faded sign on it that said, Trubbel Café over a chipped painting of a coffee cup. Mark searched his pockets, coming up with a crumpled dollar and a few coins, which probably wasn't enough for anything worth getting, but it was cold so he went in anyways. Directly behind the door was a flight of stairs going down and a short hallway that led to the café. The place was small, but it was pretty empty so it didn't matter.

Mark looked around, feeling just a tad nervous. Basement businesses generally had an ominous feel to them. The only people he saw was a pair of older men playing cards and a couple people quietly drinking coffee in the corner. He didn't see any workers and remembered that he hadn't seen an Open sign on the door, but at least the café was well lit.

He walked up to the counter, glancing around and finding nobody there. He noticed a hand bell sitting on the counter with a sign beside it that read: 'If I'm not out, ring bell'. Biting his lip slightly, he picked up the bell and rang it. Suddenly he heard a thump from directly underneath the counter followed by a muffled curse, and then a dark mop of curly hair and two brown eyes peered over the edge of the counter at him. Mark stared at them in surprise. After a second, the person got up.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

Mark looked her over for a second. She looked young, hardly fifteen, with almond skin. Her hair was loose, curly, wild and a little frizzy. The roots and about four inches of the top were a deep black and then it faded into discolored dyed reddish brown. She was wearing a bottle-green off-the-shoulder blouse over a black tank top and fishnet gloves that went a couple inches past her elbows. She had on about thirty bracelets and at least seven necklaces. Each ear was pierced five times and her eyebrow was pierced. Her mouth was working overtime on a piece of gum as she waited for him to answer her.

Mark smiled at her in amusement. "So, if I may ask, what were you doing under the counter?" He asked her, curious.

She grinned, running a hand through her curls. "Sleeping." She confessed. "It gets pretty boring around here, most of the time."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can tell."

She shrugged. "Yeah, so you want anything?"

Mark looked up at the menu that's written on a chalkboard above the back counter. There weren't any prices listed. "What can I get for…" he reached into his pocket and counted through his money. "A dollar and…sixty-seven cents?" he asked with a hesitant smile.

She chewed her gum for a few seconds. "Not a whole lot. But, if you want, I can lend you whatever you're short."

Mark's eyes widened slightly. _Okay, this one's not a native_. "How do you know I'll pay you back?" he asked, half joking.

She shrugged with a smile. "I don't…but I like to trust people."

_Trust, in New York? This girl is hilarious_. Mark smiled again, shaking his head. "Mm, as much as I'd like to take your money, I can't. I don't like borrowing things, not because I wouldn't want to pay you back but because I know I really can't afford to."

She just grinned at him. "Okay…I'll fix you something for a buck sixty-seven then. You look like an Italian roast…yes?"

He smiled. "Actually, that used to be my favorite coffee type."

"I knew it…so, cream, black or milk?... milk right?"

"Yeah."

She made his coffee, and then grabbed the sugar. "I know you want sugar… Two teaspoons?"

Mark smiled sheepishly, "Um, more like four. I have a sweettooth."

She laughed. "Perfect… hmm, but not the coffee. I think it needs just a hint of…vanilla. What do you think?"

"Sounds great, I love vanilla. You know, you're pretty good at this guessing thing."

She shrugged, handing Mark his finished drink. "It's a gift…or a sign that I've been working here for way too damn long, take your pick. That'll be a buck sixty-seven exactly, Sweettooth."

Mark smiled as he handed over his money. "What a funny coincidence, just the right amount." She grinned, and Mark could tell his large coffee cost more than a dollar sixty-seven, but he decided to just accept the gift.

Mark tasted his coffee, _Damn this girl is gifted or something. _

The coffee barista deposited his money into the cash drawer and then hopped up and sat on the counter.

"Well, I'm awake now, so do me a favor, and talk with me awhile, Sweettooth."

He thought about it for a second. He really didn't feel like going back to the loft and, with Collins at NYU, conversation was a rarity for him, so it was certainly welcome. Besides, he owed her for the discount.

"Sure." He agreed, taking one of the stools near the counter. There was no other business for her anyways.

"So, Sweettooth, what's your name?" she asked.

"Mark. Yours?"

She popped her gum again. "Reye." She stuck out her hand, which he shook. "What brings you here, Mark? I don't think I've seen you around here, before."

"I never really noticed this place before. I just went out walking today and stumbled on it."

Reye nodded. "Upset about something?" she asked.

Mark stared at her, surprised. "What makes you think I'm upset about something?" He asked, hoping that he hadn't somehow been obvious about it.

Reye rolled her eyes. "This is New York City, who honestly walks alone for no reason unless they got something heavy on their mind? It's not like there's much scenery to take in." She explains.

Mark was silent for a moment before giving in. "Okay…I'm upset at my roommate…" Her look urged him to explain. "See his girlfriend died in September and ever since he hasn't been himself…especially with me. We haven't exactly gotten along since Mimi went."

Reye nodded as if in understanding. "Did you get along well before?" she asked.

He sighed, nodding slowly. "Yeah. We were--are best friends…at least we're supposed to be. I mean…we've had rough patches before…when he was going through some other stuff…but nothing like this…and he had a better reason before. Lately, all we do is fight and if we're not arguing about something, he's basically ignoring my existence."

Reye patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Maybe he's still just getting over her death. If he loved her, it might take a while. I'm sure he doesn't mean to treat you badly."

Mark shook his head. "But he wasn't like this when… I don't know, I don't think that's all there is to it. Sometimes, its like he is purposely trying to upset me… I just… don't know."

She nodded. "Well…I could probably give you some advice, but I know close to nothing about you or your roommate, Sweettooth… How about you tell me your story and then we can really talk?"

"My story?" he asked, slightly confused.

She grinned again. "Your story, man. Everyone in New York has a story, that's what this city is all about: a million people, a million stories."

He thought about pointing out to her that there were more than a million people in New York, but decided against it. "Okay… Jeez, my story…Where should I start?"

She grinned, popping her gum. "The beginning, of course… not your birth, just wherever your life actually started."

He thought for a moment. "Okay, well I'm from Scarsdale…"

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Reye laughed. "Jeez, this Benny is a character. He sounds like some friend."

Mark sighed gently, shaking his head. "Yeah, he sure was. He could charm any lady within fifty yards, and he was funny, most people didn't see that side but he really was funny. He couldn't tell jokes but he was real sharp, real witty... But he hasn't been like that in a long time. He was always the serious one, but now he's all about his business, even his relationships are more about business. He turned into a royal ass. He's a fucking yuppie now."

Reye nodded in sympathy. Mark opened his mouth to say something else when the sound of the door shutting and someone coming down the stairs interrupted him. Reye turned towards the doorway, a smile in place that immediately turned into a grin as the person stepped out.

"Heya Lactose."

Mark looked over at the person that walked up to the counter. Lactose was a real tall girl with milky skin and short, pale lavender hair that was in a pixie cut. She had these big, sad brown eyes that made her look younger than she probably was. She had a large, solid frame for a girl. She wore black jeans, a man's baggy T-shirt under a big, worn, brown leather jacket and filthy red chuck taylor high tops.

She smiled at Reye. "Hey."

Reye motioned to Mark. "Lactose, this is Mark. Sweettooth, this is Lydia." She introduced.

Lydia smiled at him politely before turning back to Reye. "Reye, you will not believe what happened to me today." She said, her tone indicating that whatever happened was not a good thing.

The filmmaker glanced at the two of them and taking a hint, decided to take his leave. "I'm going to go now." He said, standing, not expecting either of them to hear him.

Reye immediately turned to face him. "Okay, Sweettooth. Hey, if you're not doing anything tomorrow, or anytime, come on back here so you can finish that story of yours."

Mark started, looking at Reye in surprise. "Uh, sure… I mean, if you want me to."

She laughed. "Of course I want you to. You can't just leave me hanging! You just met Benny, you just left college. You haven't even gotten to the part where you met your roommate, Roger, or how you decided to come to East Village." She practically exclaimed. "Same time, if you can?"

Mark grinned. "Sure. I'll see you then, I guess."

"Yep, see you later." She gave him one last grin and a wave as he left.

In a much better mood than when he had left, Mark made his way back to the loft. Going in, he found Roger sitting on the floor by the window, scribbling in his lyric notebook.

"Hey." He muttered at Mark as he came in.

"Hey." Mark answered back as he went to his room. Roger was pretending like it hadn't happened, Mark realized. That was the way most of their fights had ended lately: one of them would leave the room or the loft, depending on how bad the argument was, and when he got back they would just pretend nothing had happened. It was usually Mark that left too, because if Roger left he didn't come back for a day or two. But there was nothing when Mark came back. No apologies, no talking it out, no mentioning it at all. Mark hated it, but he just went along with whatever Roger decided because pretending the fight hadn't happened was better than continuing the fight.

Mark sighed, falling back upon his bed. It was too cold to film, too expensive to do anything else, and he didn't want to go near Roger in fear of getting caught in another fight. The only thing left to do was sleep.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up. I have part of it done, but considering how much work I have in my classes, that doesn't really mean much. I'll do my best…and reviews help motivate me. Oh, let me know how I did with the Mary Sue (please remember she was part of the challenge, I do not normally write OCs…) and also please remember that she is not the focus of the fic, Mark and Roger are….Their deteriorating relationship will become more and more the center of my fic.


	3. Ups and Downs

I forgot the disclaimer in the last two chapters, so I figure that should be the first thing to do this time: I do not own RENT, Mark, Roger, or any of the other characters in either the musical or film. I do own my fic and my own characters: Reye and Lactose (there will be more later)

This chapter took me a while to write…mainly because I had most of it written right away, but I couldn't write the flashback right and I couldn't find the right way to end it. The right way to end it just came to me like 20 minutes ago, but I never was able to write the flashback…so I just wrote a summary of a flashback…how pathetic is that? Its in _italics_, so you know… but Mark's thoughts are also in _italics_ so…uh well you shouldn't mix them up…and just imagine that Mark is thinking about the flashback…

Oh…they act kind of silly later…I hope its not too OOC. Always let me know how I do on characterization. Its really important to me to get characters right. and its also really important to me to get reviews, especially ones with constructive comments. I accept all flames and criticisms, btw.

Oh, and people, don't forget about our Challenge Central thing. We're extending the deadline to June 27. Its still up, and we would LOVE more entries. Please write for it! Its under my penname so check it out, por favor.

Ups and Downs

Mark managed to get out of the house without a direct confrontation with his best friend the next morning. He was bored shitless but really didn't feel like walking on eggshells the whole day with Roger, so he headed over to Maureen and Joanne's place. He would have preferred going anywhere else, but with Collins away, he realized he had no one else. _I love the friends I have…but I seriously need more_.

It was a few blocks to their place, but he didnt mind. He got around pretty quickly on his bicycle. Locking his bike to a meter, he went up to their apartment. They lived in much nicer place than he and Roger did, but Joanne could afford it, and her parents never hesitated to help them out when Joanne was desperate enough to lower herself to asking for it...which wasn't very often.

He knocked on the door and waited. _I probably should have called or something first, I don't even know if they're home. _After a few moments of knocking he heard a crash and then running steps, and the door swung open and Maureen appeared in front of him.

"Marky!" she exclaimed, hugging him instantly.

"Uh, hey Maureen." Mark answered from within her grip. He'd forgotten how long it'd been since he'd visited them and how Maureen gets when she misses people.

Joanne appeared out of nowhere, firmly pulling Maureen off him. "Honey, let the boy breathe." Shesaid sternly, eyeing Markwith suspicion.

"Hey Joanne." He said.

The lawyer slid between her partner and Mark. "Nice to see you Mark." she responded, sounding slightly less happy to see him than she said.

"So uh...what was that crash?" Mark asked, trying to ease the tension.

Maureen laughed. Joanne looked annoyed. "Oh, she knocked over a lamp in her excitement to answer the door."

"Well, Pookie, it shouldn't have been there. Somebody was going to knock it over eventually." Maureen reasoned.

"Mhm." Joanne muttered. "I'm going to go clean it up. Mark, make yourself comfortable..." she lookedbetween the two again before locking eyes with Maureen."But not too comfortable." She warned before attending to the lamp.

Maureen rolled her eyes before leading Mark over to the couch. "So what have you been up to?" she asked.

Mark shrugged, dodging the couch and sitting in a chair. He didn't want to upset Joanne more by sitting anywhere where Maureen had oppurunity to sit next to him. "Nothing too much. I've been filming a lot, but nothing really good. What about yourself? Any new protests planned?"

Maureen grinned. "Yeah, actually I'm thinking of creating a new performance about this horrid restaurant downtown that actually kills their chickens in front of the customers...its supposed to be some kind of gimic. I think its revolting."

"That is terrible." Mark agreed.

"Yeah, but supposedly legal. They're careful about it, and they seem to have found every health code loophole there is...but I'm still looking for something to catch them on." Joanne added as she came and sat next to Maureen.

Mark smiled. With him safely two feet away and Maureen wrapped up around her, Joanne lightened up considerably.

They talked for a while longer. Maureen planned out her next protest and bragged about how well her last one had gone. The last one had beenagainst the police who had tried to kick all the homeless out of the park. Mark had to admit that it had been really good. Other activists picketed or posted fliers, Maureen was the only person he knew who performed one-woman plays as a way of protest. Theatre was a way of expression for her, and when it had a cause behind it, it was an amazing thing to watch.

Joanne was working on a heavy case that was sure to bring in a good paycheck, and discussed it with Mark until Maureen got bored and started complaining, loudly. Frustrated, Joanne switched subjects.

"So where's Roger been hiding?" She asked.

Mark shrugged. "He's sleeping. The weather hasn't been great for him." He lied. He hated lying about Roger, it was as if he was protecting what was going on, protecting something he hated. But Roger didn't act the same way around Maureen and Joanne as he acted around Mark. Because of which, they didn't know that Roger and his friendship was slowly falling apart. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want them to know either.

"Aw, that's too bad. He's okay, right?" Maureen asked, something close to actual concern in her voice, the sound of which making Mark inwardly cringe in guilt.

"Yeah, he's just really tired. It's the cold, that's all."

Deciding that he was tired of lying, Mark casually changed the subject away from Roger. After a while, they went out and Joanne treated them to lunch at the Life. After lunch, Joanne had to meet with a client and Maureen was struck by inspiration on what to do at her next protest and ran off tostart building a giant guillotine,so Mark decided to go out filming for a while. It wasn't too cold that day so he parked his bike in the park and walked for a while.

He got some decent footage of the general populace, a few good shots of some kids playing, but nothing really spectacular. He filmed pigeons for about twenty minutes, and caught a policeman picking his nose, and was about to throw down his camera in frustration when he noticedtwo young girls.

He wasn't sure why, but something about them intrigued him. They couldn't have been more than thirteen and they were sitting on the sidewalk outside of a corner store, passing a cigarette back and forth. The first girl was thin with cinnamon toned skin and tight curls. She was wearing a pair of pale blue jeans that were slightly tattered at the bottom and a baggy Doors T-shirt under a black trench coat. The second girl wasn't as skinny and had creamy, pale skin and dark blonde hair. She had on a pair of dark blue jeans and an oversized black sweatshirt. They weren't talking, just sitting there and smoking a single cigarette. He filmed them for a few minutes, while they smoked it down to the cherry and stubbed it out on the sidewalk. After that though, they were just sitting there, watching people go by, and he decided that it wasn't very interesting to watch watchers, so he moved on.

After a while he decided to go to the café. It was about a half hour earlier than when he had gone yesterday, but he figured it wouldn't make much of a difference. Going in he noticed that nobody was there except for the same two guys sitting in the far corner, playing cards. Reye wasn't out so he walked over to the counter and knocked on the surface. After a few seconds the same frizzy head appeared over the edge, and she climbed out with a grin.

"Heya Sweettooth! Whats going on?"

"Nothing really, I was just out filming-"

"You film?"

Mark lifted his camera to show her. "Yeah. I make documentaries"

Reye grinned. "That's awesome. Make any good ones?"

Mark shrugged, slightly smiling at her interest. "I made one called _Today 4 U: Proof Positive_….It won a local film festival and one theatre on the corner showed it three times. It was basically like a documentary about AIDS."

Reye looked excited. "That is fantastic! You have got to let me see it sometime."

Mark smiled wider. "Yeah, sure. Whenever you want."

"Okay, but first you've got to finish your story. You talk, I'll make your coffee." She finished sternly. Mark laughed and complied, sitting down on the stool as he picked up where he'd left off.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Oh wow. I don't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for you two." Reye muttered, but he could tell she was trying not to laugh in case she wasn't supposed to.

"Laugh. I find it hilarious now. I mean, it scared the shit out of me then, and made it rather awkward for Roger, but it was pretty funny."

Reye agreed, finally permitting herself to laugh. Mark smiled. He had just told her how him and Roger had met:

_Collins had introduced Mark to Roger the night Mark moved into the loft. That night had also happened to be a night that Roger had dedicated to drinking. He had only had a buzz when he met Mark, so he had acted normal, and agreed to share his room with the filmmaker. Then Roger had gone out with his band buddies. He came home completely trashed and accidentally collapsed in Mark's bed instead of his own; totally unaware that Mark was already sleeping there. Mark didn't completely wake up, so he accepted the sudden shift in the mattress and went back to sleep. Come morning, Roger had forgotten absolutely everything about the night before, including meeting Mark. Mark had woken up first and found himself practically spooned up against the sleeping musician with Roger's arms wrapped around him, and then Roger kissed his neck. That of course made him freak out, and start yelling while trying to shove the musician off him. This woke up Roger. Since Roger had no idea who Mark was, the result had been pretty interesting. Basically, they both quickly exited the bed and while Mark was demanding what the hell Roger was doing, Roger was demanding Mark to tell him who the fuck he was. Then the yelling switched to Mark accusing Roger of trying to molest him and Roger accusing Mark of trying to steal from him. Then Roger slammed Mark against a wall, Mark punched Roger, they scuffled for a couple minutes and then Roger dragged Mark out of his room and towards the loft door. On the way there, he ran into Collins who managed to calm them both down enough to explain to Roger who Mark was. Once they realized it was a misunderstanding, it worked out, although they weren't exactly close the first couple weeks and Roger felt awkward about it, especially concerning how Mark had thought he had tried to "molest" him._ (A/N: sorry I just summarized that all, I didn't want to actually write the scene, Mark told Reye the whole story in detail, I just summed it up…I'm lazy, I know, sorry)

Reye was still laughing when Lactose came in again. She looked up, slowing her laughter so she could greet the purple headed girl. "Heya Lactose."

"Hey Reye. Hi Mark."

Mark smiled at her. He didn't fail to notice how Reye called them both by their nicknames, but Lydia called him by his real name. "Hey Lydia." He was glad he remembered her name; he usually wasn't great with those.

"You're really early today, Lactose. Sweettooth here was telling me his life story. You just had to come during a good part, didn't you?" Reye's tone let Lydia know she wasn't actually upset with her.

"Sorry, Reye, but I needed my coffee early today."

At the sound of her voice, Reye's tone changed immediately. "Bad day?"

"Bad isn't a good enough word for it."

Mark sensed it was his time to leave and, finishing his coffee, stood. _Poor girl, seems like bad things happen to her a lot_. He turned to them. "I need to be going now."

They both looked up at him. "Same time tomorrow, Sweettooth?"

He smiled. "Sure, I'll see you then, Reye. Nice seeing you again, Lydia."

"You too. See you later."

Mark, still in a great mood from talking to Reye and the memory of meeting his roommate, rode straight to the loft. The fact that Roger wasn't how he used to be was slightly pushed to the back of his mind. He stood his bike up against the wall, and, going into the living room area, found Roger laying on the couch, starring up at the ceiling. He didn't acknowledge Mark's arrival. Mark shrugged and went over to the fridge, searching rather vainly for something to eat.

"Did you eat, Roger?" he asked, facing away from the musician.

"Does it look like there's anything here to eat?" Roger's voice snapped from the couch.

Mark looked around the fridge, and then pantry, and sighed as he realized he had to agree. "Okay, good point. You take your AZT?"

"None of your fucking business." The snarl from the next room came.

Mark started, looking over at Roger in slight surprise. "Excuse me?"

Roger sat up and glared at him. "You heard me. For God's sake, get off my fucking case, Cohen. You are not my goddamn mother, stop acting like it."

A slight flash of hurt struck Mark before he shot it down, ignoring it as he sighed, "Okay, sorry, Roger." He turned back to the kitchen, hoping Roger would let the argument drop there. The silence that followed let him know that it was over. He wasn't exactly sure what made him do it, it was probably worry, but after a quick glance to make sure his roommate wasn't looking, Mark got out that month's bottle of AZT and counted the pills. A frown formed over his lips when he realized that Roger hadn't taken any that day.

With a sigh he returned the pills to the bottle and shut it. He'd wait a while before pushing the issue again. He checked the kitchen another time, but there really wasn't much food to speak of. He ended up finding a dusty, unlabeled can in the far corner. He grinned when he realized it was the Mystery Can.

Roger and him and discovered it a couple months back, and it was a long running joke between the two: what was in the Mystery Can, who would dare to open the Mystery Can, was there even food in the Mystery Can?... And the main reason it was still there was because it was more fun not knowing what was in it, and once they opened it…the mystery would be over.

He grabbed it and walked out to the couch, hoping the old joke would cheer Roger up. "So uh…you hungry?"

Roger snorted. "Of course I'm fucking hungry. I haven't eaten anything all day." He snapped.

Mark didn't give up. "Hungry enough to finally find out what's in the Mystery Can?" he asked playfully.

Roger was silent for a moment before looking up at Mark, his face softening. "We still have the Mystery Can?" he asked, his tone lighter.

"Of course. Remember, last time we decided that we were not ready to open it. Think we're ready now?"

A trace of a grin touched Roger's face. "Open the Mystery Can? …You think we should?"

Mark grinned. "I think it all depends on how hungry we are."

Roger thought for a moment. "I don't know…it's the Mystery Can… I really don't think God meant for us to open it."

Mark shrugged. "Well…I'm hungry. I'm going to go open it. Maybe there's food inside." He said, walking back to the kitchen.

Roger jumped off the couch. "Hey, wait for me! I'm not missing out on this."

Mark stuck the can in the middle of the table and got out the can opener. He put it beside the can, and both men stared at it for a few moments. "You open it." Mark said, pushing the can opener to Roger.

"Nuh uh, man. That thing has been in our cupboard for years, probably. Whatevers in it is probably alive by now… You do it."

Mark took a deep breath. "We are now going to open the Mystery Can, left here ages ago by the almighty…uh, Collins probably…Oh man, I have got to film this." Roger rolled his eyes as Mark ran and got his camera, winding it up.

"So I guess that means I have to do it?" Roger asked.

"Yep…or I could just set my camera up… hold on." Mark set his camera up beside the table so it could get in the can, Roger and himself.

"Okay, seven forty two, eastern standard time. Today, is a day for the history books. This unlabeled can, marked by the gods as the Mystery Can, was left here, ages ago,by the almighty Collins…we think. Today, we are finally ready to open it. What could be inside?"

"I'm thinking its dog food." Roger muttered.

"Now why would Collins leave us dog food?"

Roger shrugged. "We're still not even sure if Collins was the one who left it…it could have just…magically appeared in our cupboard… Besides, I wouldn't put it past Collins sometimes; when he gets high he has a really strange sense of humor."

Mark thought a moment. "True… remember that one time he bought me lipstick?"

Roger snorted laughter. "Yeah! Bright red lipstick on top of that! You actually put it on, too!"

Mark's face reddened. "Only because you said you'd give me five bucks! Which you never paid me." he argued defensively.

Roger laughed harder. "Oh yeah…" then he smirked. "But come on, Cohen, you know you knew I didn't have five bucks. I didn't have fifty cents to my name. You just wanted an excuse to wear it!"

Mark's face turned redder. "I did not!"

"You know you have an inner drag queen, Marky. Just admit it."

"I have an inner drag queen? Okay, who's the one who wore more eyeliner than both of his girlfriends combined?"

Roger's smile dropped and Mark knew he shouldn't have mentioned the girls. Roger never handled the subject of Mimi well and even referencing April was becoming a touchy thing again.

He didn't yell at Mark though, he just looked down at the can. "Grow up, eyeliner is more for boys now anyways…Eat your fucking dog food alone, Cohen, I'm not hungry anymore." He said quietly and brushed past Mark. The sound of his door slamming let Mark know he went into his room.

Mark picked up his camera and turned it on himself. "Well…I fucked that up."

LINELINELINELINE

What'd you think? Let me know in a review, please! I really need constructivism, btw. Hope they weren't too OOC, I wanted to make an almost good day for them, because relationships dont fall apart all at once. Please review!


	4. Conversations

Sorry this chapter took me so long to get out, I wasn't sure how to write a basic filler page and still have it somewhat interesting. Updates shouldn't be so long between anymore. I am done with my college classes, and I finished high school last Tuesday. I graduate on Sunday! I am so happy!

So I'm basically going to try and get as much out over the summer as I can. Hopefully I finish this before I start college, because I know I'm going to be super busy in college. I'm planning on finishing it before then…but not counting any chickens…anyways…

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own this fic…and hell, while I'm at it, I'll claim this idea too…and you know, I claim your mouse too…Yes, your mouse… Look down at your hand, yes, that, see that oval thing with the cord that you're holding? Yes, that… yeah, that's mine now. …what do you mean, 'no'? I claimed it! Its mine now… No, stop protecting it…let go! …Its mine I tell you! I claimed it. …What do you mean you're calling the police? …ah come on, my mouse sucks…can't I just…borrow yours for a while? …fine. goes and sulks in the corner, mouseless

Can you actually believe that I'm 18 years old? …I didn't think so.

Oh, and this isn't the day after the last chapter, its2 days later, he first went on a Monday, this chapter takes place Friday. Oh, and I had a longer beginning written, but decided not to use it. It'll be the beginning for my next chapter, I suppose. So I hope this beginning doesn't seem choppy.

Conversations

Mark locked his bike to a meter outside the shop and entered. He was surprised to see Reye out from under the counter. She was wearing black cowboy boots, pink fishnets under a short denim skirt and a baggy, pink, off the shoulder sweater. He didn't exactly understand her fashion sense, but she was young. She looked up when he walked in and grinned.

"Hey Sweettooth."

"Hey, Miss Reye…what are you doing out of bed?"

She grinned. "Well, my brother was just here so I had to get up to talk to him for a while."

"You have a brother?" Mark asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah. His name is Marshall…you know, I've been thinking, you and him should really meet. Marsh would just love you!" She paused, thinking, as Mark tried to figure what she'd meant, but she continued before he could say anything. "Well, I mean…he's more into red heads…but you've got that nice strawberry-blonde color, so its pretty close…" she trailed off at the look on Mark's face. "What?"

"I'm not gay..." he responded strongly. "Why does everyone think that?" He continued, more to himself.

Reye laughed. "Don't get all defensive, chico. I didn't say you were."

Mark stared at her a second, his face heating. "Oh…uh…sorry, its just that it sounded like you were saying-"

"No, I was." She interrupted him. "You understood me right, I was trying to fix you two up."

The filmmaker stopped, confused. "But you just said…huh?"

Reye laughed. "Sorry, I like to do that to people… Anyways, I don't think you're gay because I don't believe in sexuality."

Mark gave her another confused look. "Okay, now I'm really getting mixed up. How can you not believe in sexuality? Isn't it just…a fact?"

"No, not necessarily… I think the whole sexuality thing is just an easy way to state…preferences. Some people prefer blondes, some people prefer dicks, but to say that just because a guy is attracted to blondes he can't ever fall in love with a brunette is…absurd. Same thing with dicks, just because a man is attracted to women doesn't mean it's impossible for him to fall in love with a man. I think that people fall in love with people, not their genitalia." She explained. "Think about it, it makes sense."

Mark was silent for a moment. _Well…it certainly explains Maureen…I guess it does make sense…Especially considering Roger…wait, Roger? I don't... but then what**do** I feel for him? _

"So you want your coffee now?" Reye asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Mark nodded before remembering that he didn't have any money. Four days in a row of paying different varieties of a dollar and some change, for the same coffee, had made him completely broke. "Oh wait, I don't have any money…like none at all, today. I just came to talk."

"Its okay. Don't worry about it."

He put his hand up. "No, really, I don't want to take anything from you."

She grinned. "You won't be. Here" she paused as she pulled a purple notebook out from under the counter, and flipping to a new page scrawled _Sweettooth_ across the top margin. "I'll start you up a tab. See, I'll just put a tally down every time you come in and you can just pay me whenever you have it… All of my regulars have tabs, so don't worry about it." She said, putting down a tally on the first line.

He smiled. "Thanks…So am I a regular now?"

"Yep, this makes it official."

He smiled, hopping up on the barstool. "So where was I?"

Reye popped her gum. "It was just after April moved in and Roger had just tried heroin."

"Oh yeah…so we didn't find out they were using for about two weeks"…

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

"Oh my God…poor Roger."

"Yeah, he really took it hard…He's never been the same…I mean, after Mimi came in he was like how he used to be, but not completely. There will always be a part of him missing." Mark sighed.

"That's so sad... How did you take it?"

Mark looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Reye chewed her gum for a second. "I mean…well, you always describe how others feel, what others go through, but you never put your own thoughts, your own emotions into it. Its like you're cut off, almost, just…an observer." She explained slowly.

Mark's face reddened slightly. "Just because I don't talk about what I feel does not mean I don't feel things. I'm not cut off! I feel, I have a heart, it fucking hurt me, too." He snapped, his voice rising in volume as he spoke.

Reye's eyes widened and she gaped slightly. Mark took a breath and looked up at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell-"

"Don't be sorry, Mark, you're allowed to get mad…I can tell that's a real touchy subject for you, huh?" she responded softly.

He groaned. "No…I mean, yes. I mean…its just that everyone always just assumes that because I don't wear my heart on my sleeve that I don't have one. They assume that when I film I detach myself, but I'm there the whole time. I feel, too. I go through everything everyone else does, I feel it all. My camera isn't magic. It shields the world from me, but it can't shield me from the world."

As he finishes, she nods. "But why don't you wear your heart on your sleeve? Why not show your emotions? Everyone has them, its okay to react to things."

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I know that…its just that…you can't be the filmmaker and have tears in your eyes, you can't hold the camera straight when your hands are shaking…You can't be strong and show weakness at the same time…You can't support your friends when you're focusing on supporting yourself…You can't be the rock they lean on and have cracks, otherwise everyone falls." He ranted, gesturing with his hands.

"But…why are you the one to support them? Why must you be the rock? And why is it weak to show emotions? And why can't you be the filmmaker and have tears in your eyes if the tears are already in your heart?" (A/N: wow, I just realized I could totally picture these last two dialogues being sung, although I'd have to make them rhyme a little first)

Mark sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You just…don't understand, Reye, you don't get it. I can't show what I feel because no one can know that I have cracks, no one can know, because then who can they lean on? If I'm not the strong one, no one else will be…Besides, that's not how I function, anyways. I don't like expressing myself like that, its messy and tiring…Can we just stop talking about it?"

She nodded, with a smile. "Alright, we'll drop it for now…But you know, with everyone leaning on you, it has to get strenuous just staying on your feet…I want you to know, that if you ever need someone to lean on, I'm always right here, and I've got plenty sturdy legs."

Mark laughed softly. "I'll keep that in mind…thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, I would say, continue on with your story…but Lactose is coming in."

Mark looked up to see Lactose walking in. "Hey Lydia." He greeted.

She smiled. "Hi Mark, Reye."

Mark smiled back and went to grab his scarf and coat.

"Hey, you don't have to leave…I mean, if you want to stay." Lactose offered softly.

Mark looked at her, then glanced up at Reye. "Are you sure?"

Lactose nodded, and Reye grinned. "Of course she's sure, Sweettooth. Stay and talk with us for a bit."

Mark smiled, putting his coat and scarf back down. "Okay."

LINELINELINELINELINE

Okay, I guess thats a bit short, but I want to get something out. I'm going to try to speed the timeline up a bit because I have LOTS planned, but I'm having trouble getting to it. It will get more interesting as time goes by.The next update should be sometime next week if not sooner.

Please drop me a review on your way out! I could really use constructive criticims, especially on my characterization. Mark and Roger are hard to write, its very easy to make them into flat characters based on one characteristic they have while ignoring the depth they showed in RENT. I'll try my very best...although Roger will be a little flat for a while, thats the way the fic goes, though. Later.


	5. Closer and Further

This took me longer than it should have. It took me a long time to write, and I'd written it on my labtop which can't get internet so I had to wait until I got a flash card to transfer it over to my pc because I'm lazy, and then I got really heavily involved with our Challenge Central thing and my girlfriend was coming over every day to work on it with me, and I didn't even touch this until today after Lillia left (because she won't let me do anything that doesn't involve her in some way while she's here. I swear with how clingy that girl is you'd think she was attention-starved for 17 years…oh well, I love her damn it all…)

so I am really sorry about the long wait, and I don't even really think this chapter is worth that wait…but I think that I'm going to be done with filler pages after this, and pretty soon the plot of the fic is going to pick up. Should be slightly interesting, hope you guys don't think its uncreative…but we'll cross that bridge when we get there….I just think it will be interesting how opinions of this fic will change once it really gets started. Oh, and I really appreciate the comments, guys. I love the fact that people give me constructivism. …oh and I realize that its very unprofessional of me to put author notes in the actual fic text…sorry, I'll try to work on that.

I do not own RENT, any of the characters therein, or any of my readers' mouses. I do own this fic and my characters, who are, so far, only Reye and Lactose (there are going to be somewhere around 15 OCs eventually, but only 2-3 are going to be main characters).

Closer and Further

Mark sighed as he counted out the pills: there was too many, Roger hadn't taken his AZT that morning. Mark couldn't say anything about it, though, without his roommate getting angry and starting an argument. Depositing the pills back into the bottle, he shut the lid tightly, wrapped his scarf around himself, grabbed his camera, and started towards the door. As he walked past Roger, who was lying on the couch, he didn't say a word, just tossed the pill bottle on the musician's stomach and walked out. Roger made no response, but Mark knew he was awake and that he'd take his pills. It had worked for the past three days now. He had no idea why Roger had to be so difficult about it.

He'd spent the morning editing film, and although he was still a little early, he knew Reye didn't have any regulars at this time so he went straight down to the café. He'd been going there every weekday for almost two weeks. He was almost finished with his story. He was a bit embarrassed that he had gone into such detail that it was taking him this long, but Reye never seemed to lose interest and if he was vague on things she pushed him to give more details. His life as an observer made him a great storyteller since he absorbed everything. Reye often commented that when he told it, it was like listening to a story being read instead of a personal account. Mark wasn't exactly sure if that was a compliment, but it was accurate enough so he accepted it. It wasn't like they spent the whole time on his story though, they talked a lot in between, about a lot of things.

There was something bittersweet in coming to the café, as well. Telling his story reminded him of his life, freshened his memories in his mind. It also brought out details he'd forgotten or pushed back, reminded him of the good times through the years, and irritated the old wounds. Although it felt great to look back, to retake his good memories, he was often left with a sad longing for the times that were over, for the people that were gone. Speaking of April and Angel and Mimi, of their lives, left a strong nostalgia. Speaking of Roger, of how he used to be, of how they used to be: the roommates, the best friends, MarkandRoger, left him with a strong bitterness and a burning sting all the way down his chest. It hurt to talk about the good times when he had to go home to what remained.

He put his camera on the table. He usually didn't film in the café, as it was never very exciting, but he wanted more footage of Reye. Knocking on the counter, he waited for her to come up.

After a few seconds she appeared, her usual grin in place. "Hey Sweettooth. One usual?"

He agreed, and as she made his coffee, started his story. He had to get the last part over with fast, it was the freshest in his mind and therefore hurt the worst.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"And then she died. He held her the whole time. After about twenty minutes though, the doctors had to take her away, so we had to talk him into letting her go. He knew it was coming, but you could still tell that when it finally happened, he wasn't ready.

"The funeral was nice…well not nice but…nicely done. Benny paid for it all, and he splurged a little bit on the flowers and candles and such. Roger couldn't really come up with anything he thought was good enough to say, so he sang her song, you know, the "Your Eyes" one. It was really beautiful. The next week, he was pretty much how I expected him to be. He stayed by himself most of the time, and he didn't really say much, but he made appearances out of his room and he ate some…so, you know, it was a lot better than when April had died. The next week he was better, he still spent a lot of time in his room, but he talked, not about Mimi, but he seemed to be handling it really well... I tried to get him to talk about Mimi, because after April had died we had spent a couple nights talking about her, and even though that was painful I could tell that it had really helped him…granted most of his side of the conversation was expressing very strong emotions, but I think the release helped. He wouldn't talk about her though, and every time I brought her up he'd get upset and retreat into his room, so I gave up for about a week.

"The next time I brought her up was our first argument. It ended with him storming into his room. The next morning, when I went in to remind him to take his pills, he apologized, so I apologized, and it was over. Things were almost normal after that. He was still slightly withdrawn from me, he didn't talk to me as much as he used to and he still seemed to prefer to be in his room, but I assumed he was still mourning. Almost two weeks after our first argument we had another. This one was because I had gathered all of Mimi's miscellaneous possessions that were scattered around the loft and put them into a couple boxes. I wasn't going to throw them away or anything, I put the boxes in his room, but he still got really angry at me. This one ended with him leaving the loft, but when he came back about two hours later he apologized, and I apologized. Two days later we got into another argument. Then three days after that. Then the next day after that. That one was the last one where he apologized first… For the next few fights, I apologized first, and then he did. But then he stopped responding when I apologized, so I gave that up. Now, we pretty much act like the fight never happened once it's over." He paused, staying silent for so long that Reye almost thought he was done before he sighed and continued.

"Also during this time, he never really started talking to me more. He remained just as withdrawn...no, actually he got more withdrawn...days would go by without a word from him, and as it had been almost two months, I was realizing that he wasn't just still mourning… You know, I can't really decide what I hate more, the yelling and fighting or the silence. …Maybe the silence, at least when he's fighting with me he's acknowledging that I'm alive." He stopped again.

"Was he just like that with you, though? What was his relationship like with Collins, Maureen and Joanne?" she asked.

Mark sighed. "We didn't see them that often…but Collins did come over for Christmas. It was…amazing how different Roger became as soon as Collins came in. I had gotten so used to this New Roger that I had forgotten what the Old Roger was like, so it was really strange at first. He laughed, smiled, joked around with Collins and me, he talked. And with Collins around, he treated me like he had in the old days. It was like the past three months hadn't happened, like Roger and I didn't spend every other day yelling at each other or walking around a completely silent loft.

"I, of course, didn't give any hints about how things really were either…some delusional part of me almost thought that things would get better after that, but I think I knew that once Collins left, once we stopped hanging around Maureen and Joanne again, it would go back to our new normal… and I was right.

"About a week after New Years, Collins left, and he took the Old Roger with him… I mean, Roger was in a good mood for about three days after Collins left, so we didn't fight at all and he talked to me some…but then one day I bought a new reel of film and he accused me of wasting money, and just like that, things got bad again… And that's about it, that's my story."

"Wow…That's so sad..." They were silent for a moment before Reye looked up at him cautiously. "Mark, can I ask you something?"

He nodded. "Sure, ask away."

Reye popped her gum, hesitating a moment before saying, "So, Sweettooth…do you love Roger?"

Mark stared at her for a second, his eyes wide. His heart sped up slightly in nervousness. "What? No!...What gave you that idea?"

Reye laughed slightly. "I'm sorry…but I kind of got this…this feeling from the way you talked about him…mainly before you talked about Mimi dying… but just like…from the way you said things, from the look in your eyes… I mean, seriously, Mark, do you love him?"

Mark laughed, in an almost scoffing manner, before realizing how false he sounded and stopping. He was silent for a moment. "No… I mean…its not really like that. I mean, I love Roger…but in the same way I love Collins or Maureen, as a friend." He was silent for a moment longer, and Reye didn't say anything, just looked at him. Even though she didn't verbally doubt him at all, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was challenging his statement. "Well…okay… I guess you could say that I…used to have a slight crush on him… I mean I wouldn't say I ever loved him…in that way… But, yeah I guess I've had feelings that went a bit further than friendship...I don't know, maybe once...maybe."

Reye nodded. "Okay, I'm going to go on a hunch I have…so let me ask you something else, Mark… If I would have asked you back in August…or September even, if you loved him, in that way, what would you have said then?"

Mark was silent for a long time, and Reye thought he wasn't going to answer her when he met her eyes. "I think I would have said yes."

Reye nodded, looking slightly pleased with herself. "But now, its no?"

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Now it's more like, "How could it ever have been yes?'"

She nodded sadly. "That's a real shame, man."

He shrugged. "I don't know…maybe not. I mean, maybe its better this way. …I don't mean that its better that he decided he likes to fight with me and we're not really friends anymore… But all the same, maybe its better that I don't love him. Its not like anything could have ever come from it, not with Roger Davis. Not even in the old days."

They were both silent for a few minutes before Reye looked over at the camera. "Film me."

Mark immediately reached for his camera without realizing it. Realizing the absurdity of her statement he paused. "What?"

She grinned. "Film me. Come on, filmmaker, do what you do best."

He slowly picked his camera. "But why? Doing what?"

She popped her gum thoughtfully. "Um…making coffee."

He laughed. "Okay, sure. Who knows, maybe this will lead me to my new great idea."

She winked at the camera. "Of course it will, because everyone loves coffee and everyone loves me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Everyone loves you? That's a bit…arrogant of you."

She laughed. "True, true, I'm sure not everyone…just everyone who's met me."

Mark laughed again and proceeded to film her make a chai latte that she drank herself. As she was finishing Lactose walked in. Mark immediately got her on film. He had no footage of her and found her very intriguing.

"Hey Reye, Mark…What's going on?" Lydia asked, before sitting down.

"Sweettooth is shooting scenes for his new documentary about coffee and the glamorous, dangerous life of baristas." Reye answered.

Lactose smiled slightly. "Oh…but Reye, can he… I mean, I kind of need to talk to you…" she said softly.

Mark took this as his cue. "I think I'll get going now. Since I got my camera I'm going to get some more filming done before it gets too dark." He said, packing up.

Reye looked up, "Okay. Hey, want to go get Chinese with me tonight?" She stopped at the look on his face. "As friends, of course. Hungry friends."

He hesitated slightly before smiling. "Sure. Should I meet you here or what?"

She nodded. "Yeah, at nine. Don't worry about money, its on me. You can get it another time."

He smiled and agreed. He bid Lydia a bye and left.

He decided that he really didn't feel like going back up to the loft and so spent the whole time filming. He stumbled upon the two young girls again and couldn't resist, despite how wrong it felt, hiding his presence and filming them for a while. They were standing against the side of a building, wearing the same thing as last time. He had a sinking feeling they might be homeless, but they looked alright. They were talking animatedly, the blonde kept jumping back and forth as she spoke. After a few minutes they took off running someplace and Mark left to find something else to film.

He got back to the café at nine and they walked down to a small Chinese restaurant Mark had never been to. The food was really good though, and reasonably priced so he didn't feel too bad about letting Reye pay for it. They talked for a long while, about Roger, Maureen and Mark's films, about the homeless, music and movies and Reye's adventures while working at the café.

After the restaurant owner insisted that they leave, they ended up walking around for a bit, still talking. He loved talking with Reye. She was happy and friendly and caring and so interested in Mark's opinions on things. He wasn't used to any of it anymore, and although her bluntness sometimes caught him off guard and was a bit rude, it was still alright. Mark ended up not getting home until a little past midnight.

Walking into the loft, the filmmaker was surprised to see Roger still awake, poring over his lyrics notebook.

"Hey." He said as he walked past him. The musician didn't even look up to acknowledge him. Mark didn't bother trying again, he just went into his room, shut the door and lied down.

Shutting his eyes he let his mind race. _Why is he like this? What the hell did I do to him? I had to have done something, there is no other explanation. …God, I can't deal with this anymore. How the fuck could I have ever thought I loved that man. I couldn't have. I never did. It was just a thought. That Reye is putting things in my head. She probably gets off on thinking of guys together_. He frowned at that thought. He liked Reye, he didn't want to take his frustration out on her, even if it was only in his mind.

_What do I do? What the hell can I do that I haven't already? _His eyes opened when the realization hit him. _I can't do anything. I can't fix this if he won't let me…I'm tired of this, I'm tired of him treating me like this. I do not care anymore. I give up. _

"I fucking give up on you, Roger."

LINELINELINELINELINE

So that's it for now. Hope you guys approve. Please drop me a review to let me know. I'm sorry this took me so long. I HOPE I can get the next chapter out within a week or two. I have the one after that almost completely written (I tend to skip around when I write, hence why it takes me so long, I never write the chapter I'm supposed to when I'm supposed to).

Oh and for all you writers, check out Challenge Central! There's 30 challenges up now. If you've noticed stories with (this is for Challenge # etc) that's where they're getting the challenges from. Its under my profile. We're always looking for more entries.


	6. Silence in the Loft

This chapter was meant to be a lot longer, but then when I realized how long it was going to be I decided to split it up into two chapters so I could post this one now. I felt I owed my readers a fast update since I took so long the last time.

This** _is_** another filler page, but I'm trying to establish a back story and develop the characters before the plot gets going full force. I expect three more filler pages, at the **most**, before we hit the good stuff… well I think good stuff, I'm actually pretty nervous because its not that original. I'm also a bit nervous because on further evaluation of my OC and where I'm planning to take her, I've realized that she is becoming a Mary Sue, and I don't want that.

My girlfriend wanted me to be able to write an OC well, if she turns into the cliché Mary Sue then I'm completely failing. And I'd never live that down. My intended focus is supposed to stay on Mark and what he's going through right now, and later the relationship of Mark and Roger. The OCs are meant to just be instigators...very, very strong instigators...I will try my best though. Make sure you let me know how I could improve things and what you honestly think. Reviews are SO appreciated.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own Lydia and Reye.

Silence in the Loft

Mark rifled through the meager bills before sighing and stuffing the money back into the envelope taped to the back of the top drawer of his dresser. He didn't have much money left. The bank had found out about the ATM Collins had 'fixed' and unfixed it, he refused to go back to work at Buzzline and his savings from both were definitely dwindling. Although there was interest, he'd refused to sell "Today 4 U", however he did sell it to Buzzline's channel for a one time television showing since he couldn't pass up the money or opportunity to have his film aired. That was actually a favor to him, though, since most channels had people _pay_ to show their documentaries, not the other way around. But all of that money had been offered up for rent months before.

Now, Roger made most of the contributions. He had some kind of agreement with a bar owner downtown he was friends with, and he worked when he wanted to or when they needed the money. He'd also performed there a few times when the scheduled act had cancelled, and he got paid for that as well.

With all of these things, they'd managed to keep the heat on, have groceries in the house most of the time, and pay rent often enough to keep Benny off their back. Sometimes Mark wished he'd just swallowed his pride in the beginning and accepted Benny's offer of staying there free, but he'd been working Buzzline then and didn't need it, and now Benny refused to offer the same deal.

_Maybe I should get a job. I can't keep letting Roger take most of the bills_. Mark frowned. He didn't really like the bar scene as much as Roger did, would have to practically beg to get his job at Buzzline back and he flat out refused to do that, and after that the only jobs left for a college drop out with no computer skills or job experience not dealing with cameras were towards the fast food restaurant end of the market. He'd rather not eat.

Sitting on the floor he started going through his most recent reels of film again. All he needed was an idea, just one more idea. Because of the buzz caused by his first film, he had already become known to some important people. It wasn't a big fuss, but they'd recognize his name…or one of their assistants would. With that much help it wouldn't be as hard to get attention for his next documentary. And maybe then he could get funding for his films. And then he could pay rent, eat and do what he loves without depending on anyone else. If only he could just get this one going.

Carefully he looked at shot after mundane shot. He could always finish his documentary about homelessness, he figured, looking through the large amount of footage he had on that. His new footage on the two girls would fit into that nicely as well, provided he find out if they were actually homeless or not.

A slow grin crossed his face as he picked up an image of Reye, a wide grin on her face and lo mein noodles sticking out of her mouth. That had been two days before, when they'd gone out to eat. She'd hammed it up for the camera. That girl loved to be filmed, almost as much as Maureen did. He put those shots aside.

After an hour of sorting through reels he gave up, putting them all away. He still had nothing. He liked it better before he'd decided to put this pressure on himself to make a new film. He liked it better when he just captured life and let that take him where it would. That was, after all, how he'd created "Today 4 U".

_Maybe I should just stop trying so hard_.

Deciding it was about time for some food he left his room. Roger was sitting on the couch, reading a book. Mark hid his amusement. He and Mimi were the only ones who knew about Roger's fondness of reading. He didn't like to spread it around since he thought it was embarrassing or would tarnish his image, for some reason. Mimi never understood it though, she thought it was better to live life yourself than read about others living, and so Roger had stopped reading when he had lived with her. That never sat well with Mark, but he didn't feel it was his place to say anything about it.

He walked past the reading Roger without a word and of course the rocker didn't acknowledge him either. That was the way it had been for the last couple days, ever since Mark had decided that if Roger didn't care enough to put the effort in he sure as hell wasn't going to.

In his mind, the conversation that should have happened was being played out. In the old days, Mark would have came over and sat down next to him, waiting. As soon as Roger finished the chapter he was on he'd put the book down and the filmmaker would ask him if it was any good. He already knew the answer, because Roger never read books that weren't good past the first chapter. But he loved to listen to Roger answer. His voice would fill with such passion and emotion, usually restrained by the musician, as he'd not only describe how good the book was but would soon go off on a tangent about the story. Mark was most amused by the fact that once he'd ask about a book Roger would come to him every time something exciting or dramatic happened and tell him about it, if there were any raunchy or smutty parts, which there usually seemed to be at least one, he'd describe it in detail, because he never seemed able to control his slightly perverted side. And he'd always tell him about the ending as soon as he finished. Mark could adequately summarize every book Roger had read and describe every character like he'd read it himself. It was one of the things the two of them had shared that the young man truly missed.

He'd found Roger reading a few times since Mimi had died, but it wasn't the same. The first time he'd done what he'd always done, waited for Roger to acknowledge him and asked him about the book. To his surprise the musician had just stared at him for a moment and then responded curtly, "I'd know if you'd actually let me read." and then looked back to his book, leaving Mark speechless and hurt.

He never tried it again after that.

Going to a cupboard he grabbed a can of Spaghetti-O's but stopped himself before reaching for two bowls. _I do not care if he eats or not. He's a grown man, let him take care of himself._. He chided himself before taking a single bowl and a pan and going to the hot plate.

He sat on the table and ate his finished food. Roger never looked up at him, which he was incredibly grateful for because despite having given up on him, Mark would never have been able to take the guilt that'd come from Roger expecting food and him having none for him. Finishing he put the bowl in the sink and stuck the remainder of the can of Spagetti-O's in the fridge. He never could finish a whole can by himself and he'd never tried before.

LINELINELINELINELINE

If that seemed a bit short just know that its because I split it in half. The other half should be coming out in 1-3 days, since I haven't quite finished it. Reviews inspire me to write faster ;)


	7. Teasing and Shouting

I know this took me a couple days longer than I said it would, but I had some unanticipated trouble with it...I actually don't like this chapter. I just feel the writing is...off. But I couldn't figure a way to fix it, and believe me, I tried a bunch of times to get it right. And it just does not sound right to me. But oh well, I tried and maybe I'll edit it later but for now this is it. Make sure you drop me a review, maybe you can pick up what the problem is. ...I think its the writing, its...not as good as it could have been. I dont know, let me know what you think.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein.

Oh, and the next chapter is when the plot actually starts moving forward. And I know Roger seems a bit harsh, and I know it may be getting OOC for him, but this is just how the story is supposed to go. He's supposed to be an asshole right now. Hope its not too over the top.

Teasing and Shouting

"The next thing I know he whips around at me and starts screaming "Give me back my mother, you cunt!"." Mark tries to hold a frown as Reye laughs. "It wasn't funny, Miss Reye. He seriously freaked me out, because then he was lunging for my camera, screaming at me to leave him alone and to get the hell out of his head. I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. So I took off running."

Reye chuckled, shaking her head. "Wow, sounds like some day. Oh the dangers of being a documentarist!"

Mark groaned. "But I asked him if I could film him. He saw me, and I asked him if I could. And he said he didn't mind! Then five minutes later its like a complete switch. He has to have some problems."

Reye shrugged. "Or maybe he was just fucking with you, trying to scare you off. I wouldn't put it past anyone in this place."

"I guess…but I don't think so. I should have known better than to film someone who was arguing with himself. …Hey, maybe my next documentary should be about people with mental illnesses. That would be interesting, and a good cause because people like that are almost completely ignored. If people think you're crazy you're treated less like a human being and more like an animal, its wrong the way society rejects them instead of trying to help them…but I don't think I could find enough people…"

Reye laughed. "Sweettooth, we're in New York City. Eighty percent of the people here have some kind of mental problem. And ninety percent of the rest are tourists."

Mark laughed. "So ten percent of twenty percent of the people here are normal…about how many people do you think that is?"

"One hundred and sixty thousand and two." She responded without hesitation.

He grinned. "Well I guess that's not so bad then."

"When there's nine million people in New York, its not so good either…but that's what makes me love this place. Who wants to be around anyone normal anyways?"

"Okay, there is unique and there is flat out weird and fucked up. I'd rather stray away from the latter. …So, Miss Reye, are you counted in the eighty or twenty percent?" he teased.

She blew a bubble and sucked it back in before answering, mocking indignation. "I'll have you know, Sweettooth, that I have absolutely no diagnosed mental illnesses whatsoever."

"No _diagnosed_ illnesses?"

They both laughed. Then there was silence for a few moments before Reye grabbed Mark's camera and switching it on aimed it at him.

"Reye, knock that off." He said, reaching for it.

"Why? Is the filmmaker camera shy?" she teased.

He laughed, "No, just give it back."

"No…Strike a pose!"

Grabbing his camera he switched it to face her. She dramatically hid her face with her hands, "Oh no pictures! I haven't put my face on yet."

After a moment they stopped laughing and Reye found Mark looking at her thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"What's your story?"

Reye's grin dropped for a moment. She looked honestly surprised. "My story?"

He smiled. "Yeah, you said everyone has a story. What's yours?"

A slow smile crossed her face. "Wow. No one's ever asked me that before… My story… well first off, its not as long as yours…not that I didn't love every minute of your story, I just don't have that much to tell. …are you filming this?" she asked, noticing he had his camera up still.

"Oh, sorry. Do you not want me to?"

"No, I don't mind…Well, I guess I'm just a good, old fashioned runaway. I used to live in Ohio, in a trash heap called Tiffin. My dad bailed on us when I was a kid, my sister got pregnant at fifteen and moved in with her boyfriend, and me and my mother didn't exactly…mesh well together. So as soon as I got the chance I split. I had some crazy dream of becoming an actress. I figured it was foolish to try to get into movies, but getting onto Broadway should be easy so I hitchhiked it to New York. Yeah…Broadway wasn't as easy as I thought. For about two weeks I thought I had an agent, but then I found out he was just trying to be my pimp (I got out of that situation pretty quickly). The whole actress dream died after that. I think that's when I grew up. I ran out of money fast, played the homeless game for a while, and then my luck changed: I met Marshall." She paused, noticing Mark's confused look.

"I thought you said Marshall was your brother?"

She laughed. "Oh sorry. I refer to him as my brother so often I forget that he isn't. He's not actually related to me, but he's the only real family I've ever had. He's my brother in every way that counts, so blood doesn't really matter."

"I understand that."

"Anyways, I found Marshall while he was getting mugged…well, uh technically I was the one mugging him-hey, don't give me that look! You'd be surprised what you do when you're that hungry! But yeah, me and a couple of other homeless people around my age, who I was hanging around with at that time, mugged him. They knocked him down, and since I was the fastest, it was my job to take the bag and sprint off with it while the guy was on the ground. The only thing I didn't count on was for him to recover so quickly and chase me. He chased me for about two blocks when I ran right into a cop. The pig "apprehended" me and assumed (rightly) that I had stolen the bag. Then Marshall came running up, and I was so sure I was going to be sent to juvie but then I heard him tell the cop some story that I was his sister and it was his bag, and I was just late so that's why I was running. He was chasing me because I'd forgotten something. It sounded so fake (Marshall cannot lie to save his life), the cop had to be able to tell it wasn't true, but he couldn't do shit about it. Marshall's wallet and ID were in the bag and strangely enough we happen to look alike. I just stood there agape while the cop walked off without giving us anymore trouble."

She paused as Mark wound up the camera.

"I didn't know what to do so I just thanked him and started walking away. But then he caught my arm and asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat. Before I knew it I was sitting in The Tandor, eating more food than I had in weeks and getting offered a place to live. Now, I wasn't stupid and I didn't just go home with people, but living on the streets taught me how to spot a creep and he wasn't one. Something about him made me think he was a good guy. And I really didn't want to turn down a hot bath and a real bed. So I took him up on it, just for the night originally. Then one night turned to two, then three. We talked a lot and became real fast friends. He introduced me to his boyfriend at that time, Tyler, and any doubts of Marshall's character disappeared after seeing how they interacted. After another week I was getting talked into staying there permanently. He really didn't want me back on the streets, and I couldn't really find an argument. I've been there ever since. I always tell him that one day I'll move out, get my own place, and finally leave him alone…but it never happens. Neither of us really wants it to. After a few months I was able to land this job and start pulling my weight, but he never lets me contribute as much as I should. …I guess I've been in New York for about four years now. And that's pretty much my story."

"That's great. This Marshall sounds like a real good person."

Reye grinned. "He is. Marshall has got to be the sweetest man I have ever met. I really think you two should meet…I know you would like him. …And Marshall would absolutely love you."

Pink touched Mark's cheeks. "So you keep telling me…over and over…almost every day…for the past month since I met you."

"Oh I do not tell you that much!" she interrupted hotly.

He grinned. "You do too! Or at least it seems like it. But jeez, Reye, I don't know…I mean, he sounds great…but the only guy I've ever really had feelings for is Roger, and we both know how that turned out…I don't know, I guess I find guys attractive sometimes, but I'm really more into the fairer sex."

She popped her gum. "I guess I know what you mean…but you two should still meet. Even if no sparks fly, I guarantee you'll be good friends."

He smiled at that. "Okay then, can never have too many friends."

She looked up mischievously, muttering softly under her breath, "…Although you two _would_ make the cutest-"

"Reye!"

She laughed. "Sorry. Hey, are you busy this Friday night?"

"Well I might have to check my schedule. I think I have a "get into random fight" appointment with Roger, but I wouldn't mind canceling."

"Good. There's this party at my friend Canvas' house. You need to come with me. It'll be fun." She tried her best to tempt him.

He thought about it for a moment. _What do I have to lose? Might as well start living_. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

She grinned. "Awesome! And Marshall will be there, you two can finally meet. …I'll be sure to give you guys plenty of _alone time_."

"Reye!"

"Shutting up!"

He chuckled. "No don't shut up. Its nice to have someone pay this much attention to me."

"Roger still not talking?" she asked, concern touching her tone.

He shrugged, putting the camera down and shutting it off. He'd momentarily forgotten he was still filming.

"Not a word in ten days. And I haven't said anything to him either. Its strange, the quiet was beyond unnerving but now its kind of comforting…almost, if it wasn't so fucking lonely."

"That has to be depressing…but it could be worse."

He looked up in surprise. "How, exactly?"

She grinned. "You could go deaf."

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Maureen called."

Mark jumped practically two feet in the air. He turned to face Roger, as if he couldn't believe he had actually spoken. After a moment he recognized what he'd said.

"What'd she want?" he asked cautiously.

Roger sat up and looked at him. "She wanted you to give her some help on her latest protest, she said Joanne didn't have enough time."

Mark nodded absently. There was something wrong with Roger's voice, he was too… tense; like he was…restraining himself.

He watched as the musician's eyes darkened suddenly. "She also asked if I felt better."

_Shit._

"Mark, why the hell does she think that I was sick?" he demands, starring him down coldly.

Logic begins to talk to the filmmaker, tell him that it's strange and very …off that Roger's so upset over this. That there's no reason to be this upset. But he's focusing too much on the current situation to listen much to logic.

"Because I told her you were." Mark's voice is just above a whisper.

Roger glares at him. "Well, if you can't tell I'm not fucking sick. I haven't been fucking sick. So why the fuck are you lying about me?"

"I'm not-its just-I mean…it wasn't…" he was grasping at air, unable to find an answer that wouldn't infuriate the singer more.

"How dare you fucking lie about me! What, you trying to get pity points for me? Trying to speed me along to death? Fucking bastard." He was shouting now, on his feet.

"You are fucking unbelievable. Like I would ever do any of that?" Mark's voice was growing hard as well. "I didn't even say you were fucking sick, I told her the weather wasn't good for you and you were sleeping. And I wouldn't have to fucking lie about you if you talked to any of your friends anymore. If you stopped fucking avoiding us like the goddamn plague."

"If you haven't fucking noticed, I never liked Maureen to begin with and I'll take any excuse not to hang around her and I don't give a shit if she knows that. And as for you, what, does Marky miss me?" he mocked. "Look, maybe we'd talk more if you ever had anything fucking different to say, "oh my camera, my film, my movie," whatever. Get a life, Cohen and stop fucking lying about mine." He yelled.

_Fucking low blow, Roger_.

"Whatever, I'm fucking through with this." Mark muttered before retreating to his room. _Maybe the silence is better. _

LINELINELINELINELINE

Okay, what'd you think? Please let me know!  
The next chapter is going to pick up the pace of the story a bit. I really, really hope my readers stay with me once they find out where this is going. I plan on this fic to be long, so please plan on seeing it through, I swear it will get interesting...I hope. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, I have most of it written...but I'm moving into my college dorm this Thursday and classes start Monday so life is going to get a bit hectic. Hopefully I get it done before Monday at the latest, thats what I'm planning on. And as always, reviews inspire me to write ;)

Oh and Challenge Central still needs more entries, so go check it out and pick one! I swear it'll be fun.


	8. Marshall

I'm sorry about the wait. College is hectic, I'm having too much fun at night with my new friends, there is so much reading to do for classes, I left half my story at home on my home pc and had to wait for the weekend to get it, and then of course good old fashioned writer's block. So sorry.

Okay, I really do not know about this chapter. See, I had it almost all written…and I liked the way it flowed and stuff. …but then I was reading it and I thought something was a bit… strong about it. So, even though I liked my original chapter I had a very important decision to make. 2 major events have to happen in order for this story to really get going, and they both happened in the original chapter…and although I liked the way I'd written it, I thought it was a bit much too soon. I wasn't sure if it would be better the way I had it or if I were to split up the events. And it took me a very long time to decide, and I'm still not sure about my decision…but in the end strengthening a relationship won over adding drama.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters or situations therein. I do, however, own Reye, Lactose, and Marshall. Steal them and be faced with my powerful wrath! (I'll chase you with a virtual hammer…)

Marshall

Mark picked up his camera automatically before remembering that he was going to a party, where he would be expected to interact with people. He still wanted to take it, but Reye had insisted he leave it at home.

"Fine, you win." He muttered to himself since Reye wasn't actually present. He put the camera down and headed towards the door. Roger was sitting on the couch, reading a new book. The filmmaker almost turned to say goodbye, almost stopped to tell him where he was going, but stopped himself. _Don't be foolish. He doesn't care_. Buttoning up the few buttons he had on his coat he walked out without a word and shut the door quietly behind him. _Wouldn't want to disturb his reading…_

He rode down to the café, glad it was not very cold out that night. Reye was waiting for him outside.

"About time." She teased.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to wear…and didn't have much to choose from…this isn't like a teenager party, right?"

She laughed. "What makes you think that?"

"Well…you are a teenager…and I'm just kind of worried that-"

"Who says I'm a teenager? And excuse me, Mr. Cohen, but you're not that old." She interrupted.

"I'm twenty-five, thank you. Twenty-six in October. And how old are you, Miss Reye?"

"Younger than you and one year older in May. …So twenty-five, huh? Awesome, Marshall is just twenty-seven and-"

"Reye!"

She laughed. "Sorry. Come on, let's go." Mark quickly chained his bike to a light post and followed Reye down the street. Walking a few blocks they came into a large, slightly decomposing apartment building.

"Its seven floors up and we have to leg it, sorry… The elevator works…sometimes. I'd rather not risk it." She explained as they started up the stairs.

Mark shrugged, he didn't mind. He was used to stairs, maybe not this many but he wasn't lugging a bike so that made up the difference. After reaching the floor they went to the door at the end of the hall. There were only three doors on this floor, foretelling a pretty decent sized apartment.

Mark could hear the music from without the closed door, and was blasted by it as they entered. He failed in his attempt not to flinch.

They came into a decent sized room. It was plain and under furnished, holding only a single couch that was loaded past capacity and several overturned milk crates and cardboard boxes that served for tables, chairs, footstools and anything else they could think of. About fifty people were milling around, carrying bottles of beer and alcohol, talking and laughing, and dancing to the loud music with the bass on too high. Some of them were high, some of them were drunk, and some of them were different variations of both. Only a few were sober, or close to it.

Mark was relieved to see that he wasn't the oldest person there. Some people looked as old as thirty-five while others hardly looked sixteen. The majority, though, were twenty-somethings, like Mark.

Mark looked up as a young man came towards him and Reye. He wore a wide grin and Reye immediately greeted him.

_So I guess that must be Marshall._ Mark thought, looking the man up and down. Marshall was almost four inches taller than Mark, with rich cinnamon toned skin and thick black hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck and hung in shaggy curls around his face. He was a bit slim but not skinny, with a seemingly natural, very slight build. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that slipped down one hip slightly and a white tee shirt under a pale blue unbuttoned button up that was ripped at the bottom.

Mark glanced between him and Reye. It was true, despite them not being blood they did look a lot alike, definitely enough to be thought of as brother and sister. Mark took in Marshall's features again. _Shit, Reye wasn't lying, he is goodlooking...very goodlooking..._

Reye's voice broke through his observations. "Marshall, this is Mark, the one I told you about. Mark, this is my brother, Marshall." She introduced them. Marshall stuck out his hand and turned his gaze on Mark. The filmmaker looked up, catching Marshall's eyes for the first time and his breath caught in his throat. Marshall had the most amazing eyes Mark had ever seen. They were a strange blend of deep yellow-green and tan, bordering on gold. _They're beautiful_.

Marshall stood there for a few moments before turning to Reye. "Is he okay?" he asked.

Reye laughed, waving a hand in front of Mark's face. "Oh I'm thinking he's more than fine."

Mark realized he hadn't moved and snapped back to reality, swatting Reye's hand away. "Sorry." He murmured, his cheeks coloring slightly as he shook Marshall's hand.

The young Hispanic smiled warmly, "Its okay, I was just afraid you found me so hideous you were shocked into a stupor."

"Oh no, I don't think you're hideous…quite the opposite actually you're really---I mean…no, you're not hideous." Mark stammered nervously, his face reddening more.

Marshall chuckled, pressing Mark's hand gently, and leaning towards the filmmaker slightly. "Good to know." he said quietly.

Mark smiled nervously, and looked down as he realized that they were still holding hands. Marshall followed his eyes and with another smile gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go and pulling back.

Reye watched this all with a grin before putting an arm around each of their shoulders. "Come on boys, the party's waiting." She said, leading them farther into the noise. "Oh look, opportunity knocks!" Reye exclaimed, pointing to the couch as the current occupants stood and started to leave. "We'll never get another chance to sit, so we'd best move now." she explained as she quickly led the way there.

Mark sat between Reye and the couch. Marshall sat beside Reye. A longhaired male and the muscular girl attached to his mouth sat next to Marshall. Mark found himself very close to Reye. After a minute, a kid came up to the barista.

"Hello Beautiful, want to dance?" Reye smirked, looking the boy up and down. He was young, looking about nineteen, with long, dark hair and a cocky smile. He was goodlooking, but a bit grungy.

"Tell you what, you talk to me with respect and we'll see what happens." she responded.

The boy laughed. "Funny, baby, funny. You know you like it. Now how about that dance?"

She laughed. "Well, you're cute, so let's just pray you aren't completely hopeless, sweetheart. One dance, and then we can see if I can't teach you some respect." Taking the boy's hand she stood. Facing them she grinned, "Well, I'll be back in a few…You two should talk, get to know each other." She said suggestively, winking at them.

Mark felt his stomach drop as he watched her go off with the grungy kid. _That wench! How could she leave me with him? Stay calm, Cohen, stay calm_. Despite his attempts to do so, his heart was racing in his chest and a ball of fire was forming in his stomach. He slowly faced her brother, smiling nervously at him.

He smiled back, shifting closer to Mark. "Reye tells me you make films." He said.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, documentaries. I've written screenplays but it never worked-filming with a script, I mean."

Marshall nodded. "What do you use as subjects?"

Mark searched his face for a moment. He seemed honestly interested. He smiled for real. "Um...just real life. Real issues and things going on here in New York. The last film I made (the only film I made in the past four years actually), was about AIDS and HIV. Before that I was working on a piece on homelessness...I have a bit of an inspiration block right now, I just can't find my new film." He said, before blushing slightly after realizing how much he'd let himself ramble.

"I am sure it will come to you, Mark. Most of the time, people just look too hard while the answer is lying right in front of their face...Oh gosh, that sounded like an insult. I swear I didn't mean it like that!" he sounded scared.

Mark laughed, "Don't worry about it, I didn't get offended. I swear." He reassured him.

Marshall's face softened. "Good, good…I'd love to see the film you made. I've got a friend with AIDS. He's doing alright, but it's scary to think that it would take nothing, just a cold even, to kill him." The light momentarily faded from his eyes and Mark quickly changed the subject, hoping to get it to return.

"So what do you do? Reye never mentioned it, just that you and I would...uh, never-mind." His face turned an amazing shade of red.

Marshall laughed, and Mark found his insides warming at the sound. _Such a nice laugh._

"Just that you and I would make a great couple." He finished for him, with a grin. "Yeah, she was always telling me that, too. Reye loves to play matchmaker. It can get a bit annoying...but every once in a while she turns out to have terrific judgment." Marshall met his eyes and smiled and Mark blushed again, looking away nervously. Marshall grinned at him again, almost a smirk. "But changing the subject...Me, I'm a photographer. Old fashioned 35 mm camera, black and white stills, mostly. Sometimes I'll work in color, but the chemicals are much more expensive...and black and white photos just have a different quality to them."

Mark stared at him. "Really? That's neat. Really neat. I used to do some still photography, back in high school. I completely understand you on the black and white thing... Wait, did you do those photos in the cafe?"

"Yes."

"Seriously? All of them? Those were amazing!" He complimented, his voice filled with awe.

A new, warm light flooded Marshall's eyes, and a warm smile covered his face. Sliding closer to Mark he started talking, his passion spilling into his voice. Mark felt himself brightened by it, and soon became engrossed in the conversation, the fire in his stomach extinguishing as he became at ease with the photographer. He was glad he still remembered so much about photography, although after a while the conversation shifted to his work.

It was amazing how good of a listener Marshall was. He had never met anyone else so interested in his filming, not since college. Sure his friends would listen to new ideas, but after he got started and started going on about his shots, angles and technical details, they would very obviously get bored. Marshall seemed to be very interested in all of it. He figured it was probably because they were in similar fields. Almost two hours passed without Mark noticing. Finally, at a break in the conversation Marshall looked around.

"I guess that kid wasn't hopeless after all." He said, noting Reye's prolonged absence. "I'm going to go get a beer. Do you want one?" he asked, standing.

"Sure. I'll go with you." Mark stood as well and followed him into another room, the kitchen. The kitchen was well lit, making Mark realize just how dim the other rooms were. Five guys were sitting around the table, playing poker. A young girl was sitting on a milk crate near them, sucking on a joint and watching the game with little interest. A few people were just standing around, having various conversations, but for the most part it was a lot quieter in this room. Marshall went over to the sink that was filled with ice water and various beers. He grabbed a couple cans, handing one to Mark.

"Thanks." Mark said, taking a drink. He looked around, relaxing under the light. "I like it in here. Quiet."

Marshall nodded. "Yeah…Hey, if the noise is bothering you we can go get some air. Take a walk." He offered.

Mark frowned. "What about Reye?"

The photography smiled fondly. "She won't miss us. She tends to get a bit…distracted at these parties."

"Yeah, but is it okay to leave her alone here? What if something happens?"

"Nah, nothing will. We know almost everyone here, mostly good friends of ours. It's a good crowd." He reassured him. "Come on." With that, Marshall took Mark's hand and gently led him outside.

Once at the stairs Mark realized that he was still holding the other man's hand and hastily let go, pink rushing into his cheeks and his heart speeding up a step. Marshall looked over at him and chuckled, obviously amused. They went down a bit quickly, and Mark was sorely reminded that he'd have to walk back up those steps when they came back. Leaving the building they started walking, enjoying the night, which was rarely warm for late February, and talking at length about various things. After a while Marshall asked a man for the time, and frowned when he was told.

"Wow, it got late rather quickly. Maybe we should head back now, the scavengers will be out, for sure…not that I have anything to take. But…"

Mark shrugged. "I've nothing of worth to take either, but I should be getting home, I suppose." He had no reason to go, but didn't want to go up and down those stairs.

"I'll walk you." Marshall offered.

"No, its fine. I don't want you to trouble." Mark argued.

The Latino grinned widely. "No trouble at all, it would be my pleasure. Honestly."

Mark was glad for the darkness for he thought he was blushing slightly. "You're going to get sick of me soon and regret this." He warned, only slightly joking.

The grin stayed in place. "I seriously doubt that. In fact, right now I'm just trying to figure out a way to spend even more time with you."

Now Mark was sure he was red, but a smile was covering his face.

"Now vamonos, which way is your place?"

Mark led them there, finding that his feet were going at a strangely slow pace, making the walk take longer than necessary. On the way, the conversation was pleasant and relaxed. Nothing felt forced with Marshall, he felt able to be himself and didn't stress about what he should or shouldn't say. It was nice, to say the least.

Mark stopped them a block away from his building, insisting he could make it the rest of the way by himself, but rather unsure about why he wasn't willing to let Marshall see where he lived.

They stood a little awkwardly in front of each other.

"So um, I'll see you around, I guess…" Mark said slowly.

"Yeah…yeah…" he answered, sounding distracted. Mark started to walk away, when Marshall stopped him. "Hey Mark?"

He turned around. "Yeah?" He stared at the photographer expectantly, and felt himself smile as the other man fidgeted almost nervously. _How cute!…oh shit, where did that come from?_

"Can I have your number…so I could call you?"

"Yeah sure." Mark answered, and soon found himself rambling out his digits before he realized what he was doing. _Shit! I can't give him my number, what if Roger's home? What if he answers? _

"No wait, nevermind. You can't call me!" he exclaimed. Then guilt poured through him when he saw Marshall's face fall. "No…you can call me, its alright…I mean…don't…shit." He stuttered, a streak of heat running up his back in embarrassment. The heat was dimmed, however, when he heard Marshall laughing.

When he stopped, he looked at Mark for a few moments before asking, "Just tell me this, would you ever go out with me?"

"Yes." _I would? _

Marshall's grin grew. "Great…I won't call you, promise…but how about I give Reye messages to give you at the café? And you can send back responses…like a secret spy sort of operation."

Mark laughed. "Okay, that'd be…great."

"Good. Well…good bye then."

The filmmaker grinned. "Bye." With that he turned and hurried home, fighting the unbelievably strong urge to turn around, even when he'd remembered that he'd forgotten his bike at the cafe.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark walked into the loft and nearly jumped at the site of Roger sitting on the table, strumming his guitar.

_What the hell is he doing up at 3 a.m.?_

He thought about asking him, but decided against it, as the musician ignored his existence and continued to idly play. Mark decided not to acknowledge him either, walking past and closing his room door behind him.

Lying back on his bed, the actions of the day suddenly came rushing back at him.

_Oh shit, oh shit! I told him I'd go out with him. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I do it?…_ Although the voice in his head was panicking, a smile settled on his lips. For whatever reason he didn't really regret it. He was…glad he'd agreed. _Because I would, I guess. Yeah…I'm not gay though…But damn, he had fucking beautiful eyes…_

He let the night play over and over in his mind, smiling over comments Marshall had made, compliments he'd given, and agonizing over things he, himself, had said, going over things he should have said instead, finding better comebacks and jokes that he wished he'd said. But all in all, it left him with a better feeling than most first meetings did.

The only thing he couldn't figure out was why he'd freaked out about the phone number thing. _Why did I care so much if he called me? …Oh god…it was Roger…I was worried about Roger answering…but why? Because I'm-but I'm not gay! …And even if I was, Roger wouldn't care…so why do I? …That can't be it, it was something else… Roger wouldn't care…_

_So why did I care?_

LINELINELINELINELINE

That's it for now. Because I completely revised this chapter, I'm taking the story into a slight detour from my original plan…so I don't really know where I'm taking this right now. It has the same planned outcome, but now there's like 3 unplanned chapters that I have to figure-in in order for this to work…so I'm not sure when the next chapter is going to be out. That, and I completely bombed a pop quiz in my computer science class this morning, because I haven't been concentrating on school as much as I should be, so I am going to be spending more time on my classes for a while.

…But reviews are still my biggest motivator, so the more I get the more likely I will make time to write for this and the faster I'll have an update. Also, I have low self esteem, I need reassurance that more than 2 people are reading this fic. Keep in mind that I accept flames and love constructive criticisms. Especially about characterization, as that is most key to me.

Much Love.


	9. A Conversation and a Lack Thereof

Sorry about the really long wait. I got a job, combine that with college, finals, a social life, drama, Challenge Central business, Christmas, and the fact that concerning this story, I'm indecisive as fuck…and you equal the long gaps between my updates.

Um, like I said before, I kind of rewrote the last chapter right before I posted it and therefore didn't completely change my game plan, but took a diversion from it that I now have to write into my original idea… So really, I do not know where I am taking this right now or what's going to happen for the next couple chapters…I'm just planning on writing until it comes to me.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own Reye, Lactose, and Marshall.

A Conversation and a Lack Thereof

Mark yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He hadn't gotten very much sleep the night before, a discomfort he blamed on Marshall's eyes and unusual way of actually caring about what he thought, Roger's strange persistence in his mind and Reye's evil theory about the nonexistence of sexuality. Yes, it was all their fault.

A little while after he finally had gotten to sleep, police sirens from outside, a sound he had naturally started blocking out since his first year in New York, somehow woke him. And now he was sitting at the table, eating Cheerios, being blatantly ignored by Roger.

Roger, who wasn't eating. Roger, who, by the fact that there were no other dirty dishes, had not eaten. And somehow, that bothered Mark much more than the neglect did.

Even after Roger had changed, even when they went through days of not speaking, they still had eaten together, most of the time. It had just formed out of habit, whoever was up first or whoever got hungry first made food and made enough for two. Mark sighed, such niceties had ended, lost to the new ways of the loft. He couldn't even solely blame Roger for this. Sure, he'd started the rift and kept it wide, but as of recent, Mark had stopped making an effort and so their eating custom had died from both ends.

With a slight grimace, he slurped up the rest of his now soggy Cheerios, hateful of wasting any food, especially when it was Roger's money that had bought it, and put the dish away. He'd wash it later, right now he just needed to get out of the house. Damn being so tired he could barely keep his eyes open whenever he sat, he would wake up from the walk.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Oh my God, you're here. I don't believe it." Mark grinned, patting his bike seat fondly. He had been more than sure that someone was going to steal his bicycle during the night, as it had been secured with just a single chain, but miraculously it was still sitting there.

Leaving his bike with the hope that it wouldn't now be stolen in broad daylight, he went down into the café. Although it was strange, he wasn't really surprised to see Reye sitting up on the counter already, smiling at him. The reason as to why she was smiling didn't hit him until he was already spotted and unable to turn back.

_Oh jeez, this is going to be fun. _

"Hi Reye." He said guardedly.

"Oh hello Mark." She answered simply. There was a moment of silence before a wide grin crossed her face and a bit of barely concealed mischief entered her tone. "Did you have fun at the party last night?"

Mark shrugged, firmly deciding to play dumb. "Yeah, it was a good party."

Reye didn't seem to be put off by this, however. "Yeah, it seemed like you were having fun…although I imagine you had more fun after you and my brother left…together." She ended suggestively.

"You make it sound like we actually did something. We just went for a walk!"

She laughed. "I know…bet it was a nice walk, though…" She gave him an expectant look. "Well?"

He sighed. "Well what?"

"Come on, you know its true. Say it." She goaded.

"Oh fucking grow up." He snapped, but a slow smile was spreading over his face.

She grinned widely. "You like him! I know it!"

"I never said that. This whole conversation is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm talking to you about this. I'm twenty-five years old and you're what, fourteen?."

"I'm older than that, asswipe. Now stop changing the subject, just admit it!"

They stared each other down for a few seconds before Mark sighed. "Okay, I may…kind of…be attracted to him… That doesn't mean I like him! I'm just…more open to the idea than I was before I met him." He said, choosing his words cautiously.

"You know it was more than attraction, Sweettooth. I could practically see the sparks flying between you two when I introduced you." She teased.

"What is this, high school? Oh yeah, I forgot, for you it kind of is." He grinned at her glare. "Okay, maybe I like him…I think my voice does at least since it kind of agreed to go out with him before the rest of me could catch up."

He knew he'd made a mistake when her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You're going out with him?! When? Where? Can I come?"

"Yes, I don't know, I don't know, and definitely no…Didn't he tell you he asked me out?"

She laughed. "Nah. Marsh hardly tells me anything about his personal life, something about it being his business...But I noticed you were both gone from the party and when I came home he still had stars in his eyes…I made up my own version of what happened in the middle… Number one rule of snooping, act like you know what happened and people will tell you."

"…You're a rat, you know that right?"

"Yep. So, now that I know you've got to tell me everything…like right now."

He laughed, running his hands through his hair. "No, I don't think so, Miss Reye."

"Aw, you're no fun. Please?"

"Well….there's really not that much to tell. We walked around, talked for a while, then he asked me if I would go out with him. I said yes, and we agreed to make you our personal messenger." He smiled at the last bit.

Her smile matched his. "At least I'm in the loop somewhere…but why do you need me? Why didn't you just give him your number?" she asked in confusion.

His face flushed crimson as he tried to think of something to say. "Well, I did… but then…I told him not to call me…so that's when he came up with the message idea." He explained slowly.

She stared at him for a few moments, eyes carefully searching his face as she chewed her gum in thought. "Because of Roger?" she asked at length.

He was silent for a minute or two before meeting her eyes. "I don't know."

Reye groaned, holding her forehead in her hands and sitting like that for a long time before straightening and looking at him. "Mark, you're my friend, and I trust you…but I have to warn you, don't hurt my brother. Don't rush into things if you're not ready yet."

"What are you talking about? I'm over Roger, way over." He snapped defensively.

Reye stared at him levelly. "Mark, I mean it. Don't hurt him…please."

"…I won't."

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Okay, this chapter is pretty short…I meant to write more, but I figure its been long enough since my last update, why make you wait longer for something I can add to the beginning of the next chapter? …I also know this chapter wasn't that exciting. The story gets better, I swear…although not any more original, I don't think. Oh well, flame me when I get there, but keep reading in the meantime.

Oh and I appreciate the reviews, everyone!

PS: Challenge Central...with college and work, its taking Lillia, Cris and I longer than we previously anticipated. So the winners will not be announced this month. Shortly after, hopefully.

Much Love,  
Di


	10. Phone Calls and Messages

Sorry about the wait, again...you have to admit, it was a lot shorter this time, though.

This chapter takes place about two days after the setting of the last one. And I know the segments of it are a bit short and jump a bit...I kind of want time to start moving faster in this fic, because I need it to in order to get to the actual real plot of the story... this is my problem with long fics, I tend to make them rather drawn out, sorry about that.

Oh, in case you're wondering, Challenge Central judging is on a bit of a hiatus...college is more work and time than any of us ever counted on. Winners will be announced sometime in March though, hopefully very early March.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own this plot, Marshall, Lactose, and Reye.

Phone Calls and Messages

**beep** _Mark, honey? Are you there? Are you still screening your calls? Honey, its just me, your mother, you can pick up a phone, can't you? …Well, I'll assume you're just not home. Call me when you get this, Mark. Its been forever since you called me, I miss you… we both miss you._

Mark groaned, hanging his head for a moment before hitting the Erase button on the machine. He was halfway to his room, still chilled from the ride back from the café and ready to collapse in bed for the rest of the day, when the phone rang. Turning, he watched it with a knowing gaze as it rang until it went to the machine.

'Speak!' "Mark? Mark, are you home? …Okay, well I'll stop filling up your machine, you know how I hate being a nag…Give me a call later. I love you, sweetie."

Mark sighed.

"You need to stop ignoring her."

Mark looked in surprise at the voice coming from the couch. "What?"

"Stop ignoring her. She's been fucking calling here all week, annoying the hell out of me. Just answer a call every once in a while and she'd probably fucking call less."

Mark winced slightly at the roughness of Roger's tone, but quickly remedied this response and had a blank face when he met his gaze to make a reply.

"Me answering her calls would only encourage her. She'd probably start calling twice as often." He reasoned calmly.

"You're just making excuses." Roger accused.

_And you're just trying to find ways to fight with me._

"Why the fuck don't you just talk to her once in a while, she's your mother for fucks sake. Not a very good son, are you?" His tone grew harsher as he spoke, and Mark found himself struggling to remember the times when Roger had listened to him complain about his parents and sympathized, when he encouraged him to ignore her because he understood…he struggled to remember, and failed.

"When's the last time you've talked to your mother?" Mark muttered quietly.

Unfortunately, not quietly enough.

…

Twenty minutes later, Mark wandered into his room and threw himself down on his bed. Roger had left in a rage, slamming the loft door shut so hard it practically rattled the walls. Despite him being gone, Mark could still hear his voice in his head, screaming at him…screaming at him such horrible, cruel things…

_God, it was so bad this time…I don't know if I can…I don't think I can-_

**Ring**

Mark lifted his head. The phone rang again. Clenching his eyes shut, he listened as it rang, until-

'Speak!' "Mark, honey? …"

Mark jumped out of bed. A dark look settled in his eyes as he quickly strode over to the phone and violently ripped the answering machine off the table, jerking until the cords ripped out. Before he realized what he was doing, the machine smashed against the wall, the sound of the pieces hitting the ground drowned out by the angry, frustrated, _desperate_ scream that wrenched from his throat.

Collapsing to his knees, he caught his breath, his eyes, still tinged with an edge of darkness, fixed on the broken machine. Finally, quite a few minutes later, he regained a piece of composure and stood. Going over to the coffee table, he noted, with dark amusement, that he had taken out the wrong target; it surely would have made more sense to destroy the phone rather than the answering machine. He sighed, carefully unplugging the phone cord.

_Roger is going to be pissed_. Mark thought as he gazed at the broken machine. _Oh well_. He sighed. He knew Roger wouldn't be back for a couple days, at least. Maybe he could scrounge up enough money to buy another at a pawn shop…

_I'll figure it out later…right now, I do not fucking care._

With that final thought, Mark staggered back into his room and collapsed on the bed.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Marshall asked about you last night."

Mark's head snapped up. "What?"

"Marshall, he asked about you." She responded simply, innocently even, although her eyes were anything but innocent.

Mark evened his look, careful to keep his tone calm. "Oh really?"

"Mhm."

Mark waited for her to go on for a few moments before sighing in aggravation. "Well, what did he say?" he prompted.

Reye shrugged, popping her gum before responding, "Oh, not much. He just wanted to know how you were doing…and if you were still coming to the café every day."

"Why would he ask that?" Mark asked, slightly confused.

Reye stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Sweettooth. Maybe he'd want to know when you were here…in case anyone would want to give you something" she stared at him for a second and then groaned at his persistent confused look "…a message perhaps?"

She watched in amusement as realization hit Mark's face.

"Oh! Um…so he's gonna…"

"Well, I think so, sure seems that way…but don't quote me on anything." She interrupted.

"Oh…um, okay." Mark bit his lip almost nervously and then looked up to glare at Reye when she laughed at him.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's going to do it…you just have to wait for it." She teased him a little at the end.

They were silent for a moment before Reye filled it.

"Roger come back yet?"

Mark sighed. "No. But its just been two days, he's been gone for over a week before."

"I see. Did you get a new machine yet?"

"No, I'm planning to get one at Rudy's tomorrow…Hey, tomorrow's your day off right? You want to come with me?"

"Okay, sure." Reye yawned, leaning forward and resting her forehead on Mark's shoulder. "Man, I am bored."

Mark pushed her off playfully. "So go make me another coffee, Miss Reye."

Groaning, she glared at him. "Make it yourself, Sweettooth. Jeez, you act like you can order me around like a servant."

He laughed. "Um, Reye…you kind of work here…you _are_ kind of like a servant."

She groaned again. "Oh yeah…damn." They laughed, and Mark was once again reminded of how nice it was to have this kind of playful friendship back.

LINELINELINELINE

Almost two hours later, Mark walked into the loft, carrying his bike. Setting it down inside the door, he looked up to see a pair of eyes starring back at him.

Hiding his mild surprise, he nodded at him. "Hey."

Instead of anything resembling friendliness, Roger greeted him with "What the hell did you do to the answering machine?"

Mark stared at him in slight disbelief for a few seconds. Then he grabbed his camera from the basket on his bike. _You know what, fuck this_. Without giving the musician any response, Mark simply turned and walked back out, shutting the loft door hard behind him.

LINELINELINELINE

There was supposed to be more to this, about another typed page's worth...but I think it'll work better as its own chapter, so that'll be coming out soon, hopefully. Anyways, please review. Remember, I accept flames and love criticisms.

Much Love


	11. More Messages

Classes got cancelled today thanks to the amazing blizzard we're having here. Level 3 Snow Emergency. YAY. I thought I'd never have another snow day when I got out of high school…hopefully the snow keeps going all night and I have another snow day tomorrow! (although, no matter what, I still have to go to work tomorrow, which REALLY sucks. I walk there too, blargh)

Anyways, my point is: thanks to a whole day off, I had lots of time to write…and I actually really felt like it….I didn't feel like cleaning my dorm or doing any of my homework with my ample amount of time, so none of that got done…but that's a different matter. So yeah, here's an update.

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own my plot and characters…if I ever get really poor, I may sell them for earth moneys…but for right now, mine.

More Messages

Mark sighed. Hitting the button, he listened to the message again:

_You've reached Mark and Roger. Leave a message._

It was so bland…but he couldn't get himself to say anything remotely clever or witty… it just didn't feel right. He'd asked Roger what he should put on the machine, some dim part of him hoping that they would be able to record 'Speak!' again…but Roger had just replied that it was an answering machine, what did it matter?

We had that message for over five years…we did it right after Benny moved out…It was just a stupid message but…it wasn't. 

_Not that Roger would care about any sentimental feelings I have to the message. _

Mark smiled a little sadly. That day Roger had come home, he'd left for a couple hours. When he came back, Roger hadn't mentioned the broken machine again. As a matter of fact, he'd actually talked to Mark a little since then. Nothing really wondrous, just a bit of civil conversation about the lack of food, the cold, his aggravation over not being able to find a lyric that rhymed correctly, etc.

It was…kind of nice, but somewhat confused Mark.

He wasn't going to give it much thought at the moment, though. At the moment, all he really cared about was a certain message he was supposed to get.

Three aggravatingly slow days had passed since Reye had dropped that hint, and there hadn't been any word from Marshall. Reye hadn't even brought it up, and Mark wasn't about to. Sure Reye didn't work at the café Saturday or Sunday, but he had hung out with her all day Saturday when they had gone to get the answering machine he was currently setting up, and he had gone to the café Monday.

He knew he was being immature$ by being so impatient about it…but it was over a week since he had met Marshall and every day that passed put more doubt in his mind.

What if he changed his mind?… What if he decided he didn't like him after all?…What if it was all some kind of sick joke?…What if he met someone else and forgot about him?…What if he was absolutely paranoid?

Reason told him the last option was probably most likely, but he couldn't completely convince himself of this.

With a sigh, Mark grabbed the machine and left his room. He quickly set it up on the coffee table and then looked at Roger, who was sitting on the couch, reading the paper he'd probably stolen from Mrs. Sheets downstairs. There were only two residents who got papers in the whole building: Mrs. Sheets and Mrs. Powers. They only stole the paper from Mrs. Sheets because Mrs. Powers baked them cookies if they so much as said hello to her when they walked by. Mark felt sorry for the old woman, her husband was dead and her daughter, who she was always talking about, hadn't been by to visit her in three years. He always made a point to stop by her place on Christmas, for a little while at least.

"Its set up, so you can plug the phone back in if you want to." Mark informed him. He received a rough grunt in reply and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Grabbing his coat and scarf he grabbed his bike and headed out.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark walked down the stairs and paused in slight surprise when he saw Reye already out of her cave. She was standing in front of the counter, a strange grin on her face as she stared at him.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously, entering the room completely.

"Marshall left you a note." She said in a singsong voice.

Mark felt his heart skip a beat and hoped he wasn't flushing. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

She nodded. "Yep." And then continued to stare at him, still grinning.

"Well, can I have it?" he asked, a touch impatiently, after a few moments.

"Maybe…I'm not sure where I put it…"

"Reye…" there was a warning in his tone.

"Maybe I threw it away…"

"Reye!"

She laughed. "How bad do you want it, Cohen?" she teased.

Mark bit his tongue. "Not bad, but its mine so give it."

She grinned wickedly. "Oh, but what do I get out of being your guy's little messenger?"

Mark resisted the urge to smack his head against the counter. "Have Marshall come up with something, this was his horrible idea."

Reye laughed before a mischievous look crossed her face. "You have to tell me everything, and I mean all the little details, or I'll not give you a thing."

Mark stared at her for a moment, amazed by how meddlesome she was before groaning. "Okay! Okay, I'll tell you everything. But you can't read the notes from now on."

She grinned and pulled a folded paper out of her back pocket. "I didn't read this one." She said, handing it to him. "I like to respect my brother's privacy. Its not like I'm nosy or anything."

Mark glared at her. "Oh no, you're not nosy at all. How dare I suggest such a thing." He muttered sarcastically.

She laughed as she hopped up onto the counter.

Mark sat at his usual stool as he carefully unfolded and read the note.

Mark- 

_How have you been? I hope well. I've been fine…Sorry it took me so long to send you a message, I've been…preparing. _

_I was wondering, would you like to go out with me this Friday?_

_Send your reply with Reye…but don't let her read it. That girl is entirely too nosy. _

_Marshall_

Mark stared at it for a while. Short, simple…yet he couldn't stop himself from reading it over and over again. Marshall had messy handwriting: a just readable scrawl with exaggerated tails on his Ys and Gs and disproportionately large capital letters. He'd written in a very fine tipped blue pen and the folds in the paper weren't symmetrical.

Mark loved it all.

"Do you have any paper?" He asked, finally looking up from the note.

Reye grinned. "Sure. Hold on a second." Disappearing under the counter, Mark could hear her going through things before she appeared again, a pen and notebook held triumphantly in her hands.

Tearing him out a sheet of paper, she handed both it and the pen to him. Mark set the paper down and stared at it for a while. Finally he picked up the pen and slowly wrote:

Marshall: Friday sounds great. What time? Mark 

Mark sighed, read it over and over, fought urges to rip it up, sneered at his slightly feminine handwriting, and finally folded the paper and pushed it towards Reye.

"Remember, don't read them." He warned her.

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't. Besides, I'm pretty sure I know what they say without having to read them; guys are so transparent."

Mark stared at her for a second before deciding a subject change was in order. "So have you heard about that restaurant that kills chickens in front of the customers?"

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark fell back onto his bed. He wasn't really that surprised this time, he was expecting Roger's demeanor to change eventually…he just wished he had waited at least another day…wait until he wasn't so…happy, or close to it. Thanks to the note, Mark actually felt pretty damn good for once…and then Roger had to ruin it by picking another fight with him.

_At least he didn't walk out this time…_ Mark sighed. He had retreated to his room before the argument got that far out of hand.

He had gotten mad over such a stupid reason, though. Mark had just asked him if he could read the newspaper Roger had sitting next to him. Somehow, the musician had turned that into Mark "trying to own everything in the loft".

Mark laid on his back, stretching out and staring at the ceiling. He needed to get his mind off Roger. Suddenly, a soft smile crossed his face as he remembered the message, remembered that he had a…date Friday…with Marshall.

With the fight firmly out of mind, the filmmaker thought and daydreamed about Friday until he finally fell asleep.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Okay, really short, I know. Like I mentioned before, this was originally supposed to be tacked onto the end of the last chapter…but I don't know, I felt like giving it its own. Anyways, please, please, please review! Reviews are like energy drinks and chocolate covered espresso beans: delicious and essential to my functioning.

Much Love


	12. The Date

Sorry that the wait for this was so insanely long. I had the first half written for about 3 months...I just couldn't finish until very recently. So yeah...not that happy with it, but whatever. I got tired of this being on hiatus.

Do not own RENT or any characters therein. Do own my characters and my plot, and a really cool pair of orange chucks. yep, all mine.

The Date

Shirts, pants and an odd assortment of other clothing littered the room, covering the old, twin mattress and a good deal of the floor. Glue, old hairspray, and a pretty much empty bottle of hair gel were spread out on an upturned cardboard box. An innocent looking slip of unfolded paper sat on the edge of the box, the blue writing fading and the edges worn from having been pulled out of a pocket and checked over and over again. Now it sat open as a steady reminder: "6 pm, outside the café". The rest of the note's contents almost disregarded by the vitality set on those five words, although they weren't causing nearly as much trouble as the sentence that had been added as a last minute post script. A steady stream of muttered curses came from the closet of the room as more clothes flew from inside.

Upon finally running out of clothes to throw, Mark swore loudly and frantically backpedaled out of the closet to check the clock he had put in his room (to prevent him from worrying about the time) for about the fiftieth time. 2:03 p.m.

"Damn it." He groaned. _Four hours…only four hours._ He groaned again, picking up the paper and reading the post script again. "You might want to dress nice, not fancy, just nice." Mark sighed, looking upon the mess of his room.

First of all, he had no idea what "just nice" meant and secondly, he had absolutely nothing to wear, something only worsened by the fact that most of the clothes he had found in his closet weren't even his. Most of them were Roger's and Collin's, but there were also clothes left by Maureen, Benny and a couple things he thought used to be April's. The presence of all of these made him wonder why his closet had been chosen as the junk closet and why he hadn't been given a vote in the matter.

Sitting in the center of the room, by the bed, he began a new chain of curses as he started going through the clothes again. Suddenly, he was jerked out of his search by his door swinging open. Roger stepped in slowly, his eyes scanning the scene in obvious confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Mark sighed, letting his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Ignoring that, for once, Roger wasn't speaking to him harshly, the filmmaker still decided that he didn't want to deal with the musician right then; he couldn't.

Looking up, he caught his eyes. "None of your business, Roger." He said sharply, turning away to go back to his search. A moment later he winced slightly as his door slammed shut. _Oh well._

LINELINELINELINE

Almost three hours later Mark stood in front of the mirror, frowning deeply at his reflection. He'd taken a shower and shaved and made a very passionate, yet vain, attempt at fixing his hair in a way that was "just nice" and didn't make him look like a teenage AV geek. He had, after changing four times, eventually decided on a pair of brown corduroys and a light blue button up that actually belonged to Benny, but it, luckily, fit him well enough. He didn't know if it was "just nice" or too nice or perhaps not nice enough…but he really didn't have time to change again. He really wished Marshall had told him where they were going. Reye had told him that she had done some "innocent snooping" in Marshall's room and found out where they were going, but she refused to tell him because she "respected Marshall's privacy". Mark had been sincerely tempted to throw his camera at her.

Mark groaned softly, carefully fingering a strand of his hair that had, despite the gel and hair spray, decided to be wicked and contrary. He sighed. There wasn't much he could do about it. He ran out of gel and was afraid of the disgusting hard feeling too much hairspray caused. He had experimented a little with glue…but both the clumpy mess it created and the oh so wonderful eau de Elmer aroma it caused inspired him to rinse it out and then chuck the bottle against the wall.

Mark glanced over at the clock he had moved to the bathroom (to prevent him from worrying about the time while he got ready) for the hundredth or so time. 5:18 p.m.

_Shit, I need to leave soon…but I have a couple minutes…_ With that thought Mark grabbed his toothbrush, quickly covered it in toothpaste, and proceeded to scrub his teeth for the fourth time that day. He was not, he told himself, being paranoid or hopeful…he was just being _polite_. After all, it was only good manners to make sure your breath didn't reek when you were about to spend an evening with someone, date or no.

A nasty part of his mind reminded him that he never brushed his teeth four times when he hung out with Reye. He told that part of his mind to shut up.

Rinsing his mouth out, he dried his face and looked himself over again. Giving himself one last frown, he left the bathroom. Roger was sitting on the couch, strumming nonsense on his guitar. He didn't look up as Mark walked past.

The filmmaker, in turn, ignored him as well and, without a word, grabbed his coat and scarf and exited the loft.

He made it the café by 5:50 p.m.

Walking up he immediately noticed the figure leaning against the wall beside the door. As he came up the figure pushed off the wall and turned to face him. Mark found himself smiling as he looked him over.

Marshall had brushed his hair into a short ponytail held at his nape, the shorter curls around his face pushed behind his ears. A single stubborn curl danced happily in front of his tan-green eyes. He was wearing black jeans and a deep green button up. It looked…fantastic on him. Mark was surprised at the warm feeling that spread over his body as he processed just how _good_ Marshall looked. He was also quite pleased to see that he wasn't dressed inappropriately.

"Hi." Marshall greeted softly.

"Hi." Mark responded, just as shyly. They stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

With the tension now cleared, Marshall came up beside Mark. "So, you ready to go? I figured we could go grab something to eat first…we've got a little time."

Mark smiled. "Sure, sounds great…Where are we going anyways?"

"I'll tell you when we get there…I mean, its not a big deal or anything but…I mean, its kind of a deal but not really…like I just want it to be a surprise and well.." he stopped when he heard Mark laughing.

"I'm sure you have your reasons and that I'll love it." He assured him with a grin. Mark was becoming very aware that Marshall, although very confident about most things, had a large tendency to babble when he did get nervous.

The photographer beamed at him. "Great, I really hope you will…Now, I'm starving. Let's go."

They walked down the street, talking a little but mostly in comfortable silence. Then Marshall turned to him and asked,

"Do you like Vietnamese food?"

Mark looked at him for a second, but he wasn't thinking about Marshall's question, he was thinking about a different question he had been asked years ago.

"_Hey Mark."_

Mark turned his attention away from Maureen who he'd been attempting to talk into taking a bite of his hamburger, to Roger who was smirking at him for an unknown reason. "Yeah?"

"_You ever had Cambodian food?" _

_Mark hesitated, silently hoping that this wouldn't be another thing he was going to be teased over having no culture for. "No, I haven't."_

_Roger grinned wickedly. "Neither have they." _

_Mark stared at him in shock for a moment as Roger burst out laughing. After a moment Mark laughed too, not at the tasteless joke but at the nerve Roger had at saying it…and at Maureen who was expressing her disgust by ranting angrily at Roger and pelting fries and breadrolls (that she wouldn't have eaten anyways) at both of them. _

_A roll smacked Mark directly on the side of the head and as he turned to snap at her indignantly she said, "Don't say a word, you are as bad as him! I can't believe you two."_

_At this, they just started laughing more, eventually starting to throw food back at Maureen until they got kicked out of The Life. _

"Uh, Mark?"

Mark snapped back into present time to see Marshall starring at him, still awaiting an answer.

"Um…I've never actually tried it."

Marshall smiled. "Well, good. You can try it today."

Mark agreed and smiled, his memories pushed aside for the time being.

They spent a more than pleasant dinner at a very small Vietnamese restaurant. The people were kind, the food was quite good, and, since it was so small, quite cheap as well. Mark let Marshall order for him, since he had no idea what to try and ended up pretty happy with the photographer's decision, although he liked what Marshall had ordered better; Marshall had ordered them different entrees so they each ate half and then switched plates.

As they ate they talked, about movies mostly. They both had the same interest in the independent, artsy movies that never made sense and usually had camera techniques so random you got disoriented watching them… And they both had guilty-pleasure movies: Mark liked Hollywood slasher films (Halloween, not Psycho like he told his friends, being his favorite) and Marshall loved "chick flicks", Fried Green Tomatoes being his all-time favorite movie, something that only Reye knew about and she had found out by accident.

All in all, it was one of the best meals of Mark's…year.

Afterwards, Marshall led them to a subway. They kept talking the whole way, but Marshall kept quiet about their destination. Walking down the street, in the nicer side of town Mark noticed, they finally stopped. Mark immediately noticed what they were close to.

"We're going to a Broadway show?" he asked, caught somewhere between affection at the cute innocence of the action and just awe.

Marshall blushed slightly. "Yeah…have you ever been to one?"

Mark shook his head. "Actually no…you'd think I would have, all the years I've lived here."

Marshall smiled. "I haven't either…most people who live in New York never do, its one of those strange wonders."

Mark chuckled. "So…" he looked up at the theatre billboard. "Sweeney Todd?" he grinned. "Terrific."

"Thought so."

LINELINELINELINE

"So, what did you think?"

Mark grinned. "It was fantastic! Really."

"That's great! I wasn't sure if you liked it." He sounded so relieved Mark couldn't help but find it cute.

"I loved it." He assured him before acting on impulse and pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." He added quietly as he pulled away, face pinker than before.

They were silent for a moment, Mark's face pink and Marshall's home to a big smile, before Marshall straightened his face. "Well, I'm glad because I'm probably not going to have that kind of money for all our dates…um I mean-" his face turned beet red. "I mean-if there are any more-um…"

Mark smiled. "There'll be more." He said softly.

Marshall beamed. As they went to walk home, Marshall reached for his hand. Mark surprised himself in letting him take it.

LINELINELINELINE

Sorry this chapter was so…non-dramatic…and rather sappy. I was going to throw a little turmoil in for Mark but decided to let him have a fully happy chapter.

Not quite sure what my next move is, but I know all my eventual moves. I've actually got about 5 future chapters half written…I just have to write the chapters leading up to those.


	13. Teen Conversations and Abusive Relations

Sorry about the wait, again. I knew exactly how I wanted to write this chapter, but I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to do it...and past the beginning, I had no plans for it...so its really short, unfortunately. I figure I'll make up for it though, because I have the next chapter pretty much done and the chapter after that is mostly written so the next two updates won't take too long... unless I don't get many reviews mwahahaha...um yeah lol. And I have so many half chapters written, but they're all way in the future and I'm having a bit of trouble writing the chapters leading up to them...SO yeah, yay for fillerpages anyone?

Don't own RENT or any of the characters therein. Do own my own characters, steal them and die, gypsy.

Teenage Conversations and Abusive Relationships

"The walk back was leisurely, and filled with conversation about the show and Marshall's latest shoot. Eventually, the cafe came into view. Holding hands the entire time made them hot and moist, but there was not a complaint made about it. Marshall wanted to walk all the way to the loft, but insistence was made that just to the cafe was sufficient.

'So did I make such a bad impression that you never want to see me again?' he asked with a smirk.

'Not exactly. Leave me a note?'

'Count on it, babes.' And then he pulled on the hand he still held, and leaned down and-'"

"He kissed you?!" Reye shrieked.

Mark looked at her, annoyed. "If you insist that I tell you everything, would you at least allow me to tell it?"

Reye grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry...but he kissed you?" she added on excitedly.

Mark blushed and couldn't stop the spreading smile on his face. "Yeah, he kissed me."

Reye squealed with delight. "Well, what was it like? Did you like it? Did he french you? Come on, details boy!"

Mark laughed. "Well..." then he paused and laughed again. "God, I feel like a teenage girl."

Reye laughed too. "Okay, if its hurting your pride, we'll stop gushing...just tell me if you liked it or not."

Mark bit his lower lip, smiling slightly. "It was...nice. It was really short and warm and soft...like exactly how a first kiss should be, and I thought it'd be weird, kissing a guy...but it wasn't...different, yeah...but good. And then I walked home, or at least I assume so...I don't really remember the walk back, it was like I was drunk."

He looked back at Reye to find her grinning so wide he was surprised her face wasn't splitting. "Oooh. That's so cute!"

He glared at her. "You said no more gushing! You know what, if you're going to act like this I gotta go, this is bringing back too many high school memories."

She pouted. "Okay, I'm sorry...but how do you oh so mature adults talk about this stuff? Don't tell me you talk about kissing and new relationships like you talk about paying bills and buying furniture?"

Mark laughed. "Well, I wouldn't really know since I've never paid bills or bought furniture...but I guess we just talk about it calmly, and we don't squeal and giggle and awww...at least grown men don't."

"Well, okay. But it is sweet! I knew you'd like him, didn't I tell you? Didn't I know it?" she bragged.

"Yeah, yeah, you were right." he conceded. "So, I told you...let's move on, huh? New subject time."

"Oh, okay." she whined. There was a length of silence, with obht of them just looking at each other, then Reye smiled. "So he seriously called you 'babes'?"

Mark groaned, burying his face in his hands.

LINELINELINELINE

They say that people in abusive relationships stay in those relationships because eventually they become accustomed to the conditions. They get used to it, even learn to be reliant on it. Some people even stop being affected by it, especially if its not physically abusive. They become hard, stop getting hrt by the verbal abuse.

"Why can't you just stay out of my fucking face?" Roger screamed.

Mark sighed, going into his room and shutting the door had behind him.

"Good! Just stay the fuck in there, no one wants you our here anyways!"

Mark was still waiting to get used to it.


	14. To Leather and Chocolate Milk

So, I got only 2 reviews for my last chapter...I mean, I know it was short, but still made me cry a little inside sniffle. But I did promise a fast update, and I am done with this chapter so I decided to upload it today, for Thanksgiving. More reviews would be nice, I do like to know how I'm doing/what you guys think. Once again, this chapter is rather short...but once again, I'm going to make up for it by having an update out relatively soon.

Do not own RENT or any characters therein. I do own Reye, Lactose, Leather, Marshall, this plot, and a stomach crammed with turkey, mashed potatoes and apple pie yum...owww...yum...

To Leather and…Chocolate Milk

"I'm going to go get groceries. Do you want anything in particular?" Mark asked as he put his shoes on.

Roger grunted. "Food."

Mark couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Oh damn, I was going to get soccer balls. Seriously, Rog, what do you want?"

Roger turned to glare at him. "Where the fuck did you get money anyways?"

Mark shrugged, picking at his shoelace absently. "Still had a bit left over from the ATM, added to what was in the floor stash. Almost sixty dollars altogether, so we can afford to splurge just a bit."

"Splurge? Oh that's real responsible. Its bad enough you're spending so much every day when you go out, do you really have to waste our fucking money on junk?" Roger demanded. He was looking for a fight, Mark could tell by the way he was challenging him to respond. He still took the bait.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't waste a fucking dime. And forgive me for trying to think of something you'd like instead of living on ramen and dry cereal all the time." He argued.

Roger started yelling at him some more, something about being a liar and a mooch, but Mark didn't pay attention as he finished tying his shoes and walked out. As he was walking out of the building and down the street he heard Roger scream his name and turned to see him standing on the fire escape.

"Chocolate milk!" he yelled.

"What?" Mark called up.

"Get me some damn chocolate milk!"

Mark stared at him a moment before rolling his eyes, muttering a soft, 'Asshole' and turning to go back on his way to the store.

An hour later, he showed back up at the loft with the cheap groceries he could afford. There were quite a few for having less than sixty dollars, but Mark was quite good at finding cheap food and bargain buying. The only items that he actually splurged on were a box of name brand Cap'n Crunch, a jar of strawberry jam and a half gallon of chocolate milk.

LINELINE

Mark walked down into the café to find Reye already sitting up on the counter, talking to a very young girl who looked, to be quite frank, like a hooker. She was Asian with long, sleek black hair with bright blue streaks and too much make up for her naturally pretty face. She was wearing a metallic purple bustier small enough that it only covered her breasts under a black denim jacket, a short black skirt, black tattered fishnets, purple, scuffed up cowboy boots and a large assortment of colorful plastic and silver bracelets and rings. She had a rather small bust that made Mark guess she was younger than she looked, but she was endowed with the hips of a woman.

"Oh hey Sweettooth!" Reye called upon seeing him.

He smiled. "Hey Miss Reye…whose your friend?" he asked, motioning to the aforementioned girl.

"This is Janet, otherwise known as Leather. Janet, this is my friend Mark, otherwise known as Sweettooth." She introduced them.

Mark stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you." Janet smiled and shook it after a second.

"Charmed." She responded, and Mark was surprised to hear a slight New England accent.

"Leather was just telling me about her trick last night."

Janet laughed. "Oh yeah, a real creeper, he was. I mean, I've had some weird jobs before, guys who wanted to be beat with riding crops or wanted me to step on their backs in my heels, or act like I'm one of their family members, or the occasional guy who wants the old finger up the ass…that one's actually rather common but still strange if you ask me, but this one…sicko." She forced a shudder.

"What'd he want?" Mark asked, quickly used to the fact that he'd been right in his evaluation of this girl.

"Creeper wanted to fucking pee on me!"

Mark stared with wide eyes while Reye laughed in disbelief.

"No fucking way!" she exclaimed.

"Oh yeah, like I said, creeper."

"That's disgusting." Mark said.

"Fuck yeah its disgusting. I mean…who the hell gets off on pissing on someone?" Janet laughed again.

There was a slight silence before Mark asked, "Did you do it?"

Both Reye and Janet stared at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I didn't do it! I told him straight out that he couldn't pay me enough to even consider it."

"Oh. Sorry." Mark mumbled.

Janet chuckled. "Honey, I may need money…but I don't need it that badly. Well, Reye darling, I should probably be getting home. I need to go to the Laundromat before my shift tonight."

"Alright. I'll see you Thursday, then." Reye leaned across the table and gave Janet a quick hug.

"'Twas nice meeting you, Mark." Janet said with a wink before striding out of the shop.

Reye fixed Mark with a smile. "Sorry bout Leather…she can come off a bit harsh sometimes, but she's a sweetie, really."

Mark nodded slowly. "How old is she anyways?"

Reye bit her lip. "Not exactly legal…" she looked at Mark again and shrugged, deciding that she could trust him. "Somewhere around sixteen. She said she came up here when she was fourteen, with her boyfriend. Poor child was a fool. He deserted her within a month, and with no money, and no real home to go back to, she just kind of fell into the life of a streetwalker. Told me once that she tried working as a stripper, because it was more respectable…but that didn't last long because authorities don't crack down on the clubs real hard when the dancer's just a little too young, but she was way too young for anyone to ignore or not notice, so they had to fire her. She's okay though, I mean, she's surviving the best way she knows how, and she doesn't mind the work too much. She said once that its just work, like flipping burgers, that's how much it affects her anymore." Reye shrugged.

"I guess."

There was a silence before Reye smirked at him. "So Marshall left you a note."

LINELINELINE

Okay, really short, and left off abruptly, I know...but that's where it felt right to end it. After this, time jumps forward a little bit. I think, 2 maybe 3 more chapters of filler, at most, before the plot really picks up. The next update should be within the next week.

Much Love


	15. Bad Times and Good Dates

This is going to be my last quick update...I mean, unless I get some inspiring reviews bats eyelashes. I'm new to writing certain things, so forgive me if the beginning doesn't flow or feel just right. And be sure to read the scenes at the bottom!!

Don't own RENT or any of the characters therein.

Bad Times and Good Dates

"Mmm, Marshall." Mark murmured against the mouth pressed heatedly against his.

Marshall responded by sliding his fingers through Mark's hair, angling his face a bit more so he could deepen the kiss.

Mark and Marshall were standing at the top of the stairs of the café, Mark's back pressing hard against the door and Marshall using the excuse of not wanting to fall down the stairs to press his body close to Mark's.

They had just finished their fourth date, this time out to a rather good sushi restaurant where they had stayed and talked until the owner had started to glare at them. Now it was time for Mark to head home, and Marshall was seemingly having a hard time saying good bye.

Mark pulled away slightly, smiling at Marshall. "I probably should go." He said quietly.

"Mm, just another minute." Marshall wrapped his arms tighter around his waist, leaning in for another warm kiss.

Mark kissed back for a moment before pulling away again. "Mmm…I should-" Marshall cut him off with a soul kiss before pulling back after a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe you should-" Marshall started before Mark's lips quieted him. Marshall moaned slightly as Mark's warm tongue searched his mouth, and pressed impossibly closer.

After a few minutes, they finally broke for air. Mark smiled sheepishly at him. "Its late."

Marshall sighed. "Yeah." They stared at each other's flushed faces and moist lips for a moment before both leaning in for one last brush of the lips.

"I'll leave you a note, kay babes?"

Mark smiled. "You better." He responded before opening the door and stepping out backwards into the street where the air was much cooler than his heated skin. Giving a little wave, he walked over to where he'd locked his bike up and tried not to look behind him.

Mark was a little surprised to see Roger up when he got home. It was easily two in the morning, but then again Roger usually seemed to be awake when he got home. He probably had become nocturnal at some point without Mark noticing.

Mark smiled at him, unable to end his good mood. "Hey."

"Out wasting more of our money?" Roger growled slightly, not looking up from his notebook.

Mark sighed. He didn't feel like explaining that he'd been on a date and Marshall always paid for him during their dates, mainly because he didn't feel like explaining anything to Roger. He was in too good of a mood to let the musician spoil it.

"No. Did you take your AZT today?"

"I really don't remember asking you to be my mother. You're such a fucking control freak." Roger snapped.

"Whatever. Just take it if you haven't. I'm going to bed." Mark muttered before escaping into his room.

LINELINELINELINE

"That's it? That's all you're telling me?" Reye demanded.

Mark smirked. "Yep. That's all you need to know."

"That wasn't even a summary. Come on, I want to know what happened! Marshall won't tell me a thing." She whined.

"I know. He told me I didn't have to tell you anything I didn't want to either…and frankly, I'm not going to explain every hug, kiss and grope."

Reye grinned. "There was hugging, kissing and groping?" she asked excitedly.

"Reye, I swear to God, if you go into another squealing fit I'm never coming back here." He threatened.

She pouted at him. "Fine."

There was a moment of silence before Reye smiled. "So its pretty amazing how quickly you adapted to your fluid sexuality, considering you not only stood by your sexuality's rigid lines but were in the belief that you were straight just some weeks ago."

Mark laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess…. I don't know, I just stopped thinking that it was all about definitions and I just went with how I felt and what felt good."

Reye grinned. "Yes! You got it! You understand the non-existence of sexuality now. I told you it was all preferences not laws, I knew you'd see it." She exclaimed happily.

Mark laughed. "Well, I don't know about that. I still think sexuality exists…I just don't think its exactly concrete."

"Well, that's a good start, at least."

Mark stared at her for a while, looking as if he was debating something before he finally spoke. "Reye, you're really smart, it makes me wonder: when's the last time you were in school?"

Reye looked much taken aback. She popped her gum, running her fingers through her curls absently. "Um, new subject time."

"You mean, you make me spill about every date I have but you won't tell me about school?" he teased.

She laughed slightly. "Basically."

They looked at each other for a few moments before Reye sighed. "I'm eighteen, okay? I don't need to worry about school anymore."

Mark gave her a look and Reye laughed.

"Okay, I'm _almost_ eighteen, need a couple months still."

"So when was the last time you were in school?" Mark persisted.

Reye popped her gum again. "Okay, seriously new subject time."

"Well, okay…but what am I going to do, tell the truant officer? You know you can trust me."

She shrugged and conceded after a moment. "I didn't want to go to school after I left Tiffin, because I knew once I went they'd have record of me and I'd _have_ to keep going. Right now, I've never been to school here, I get paid under the table, my name isn't on Marshall's rent agreement…I technically don't exist, so I have nothing to worry about. I like it that way." She explained slowly.

Mark nodded. "I see…so you've never been to high school?"

She smiled. "No, I went. Went to almost a quarter of freshman year. I was young for high school, got moved up a grade in elementary…. I don't know, I was good at school…got good grades without having to try. You know, I was _that_ girl. But it never meant anything to me, I didn't miss it when I stopped."

"I see. I can understand that. I always did my best in school to please my parents, but it never meant anything to me either, which is why leaving Brown was so easy for me. I guess you just got up the nerve before I did."

She smiled and shrugged. "So, anyways, how goes things with Rogman?"

Mark chuckled sadly. "Oh the usual, snide remarks, harsh glares and angry silences. I don't think I'm ever going to understand why he hates me so much now."

"Oh Sweettooth, he doesn't hate you." Reye said comfortingly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her disbelievingly. "How would you know, Miss Reye?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Because no one could hate you, you're too good a person. I mean, just look at you! After everything Roger's done to you, you still don't hate him, do you? Fuck, you're still nice to him and take care of him, even, don't you?"

Mark laughed. "That doesn't make me a good person, that makes me pathetic."

"Hardly." She paused. "Maybe he acts like he hates you because he really hates himself and is jealous of you." She offered.

"Jealous? What could he possibly be jealous of?" Mark scoffed.

They both knew what he could easily be jealous of, but neither mentioned it. Instead, Reye grinned and said, "Well, perhaps your smokin' hot bod."

Mark laughed. "Oh yeah, sure…who are you talking about now?"

Reye grinned mischievously. "Well, Marshall seems to think you have a smokin' hot bod."

She laughed as Mark turned red. "Grow up." He mumbled.

She giggled and ruffled his hair playfully. "Sorry, but he does…You know what, I'm not sorry. You're damn lucky, my brother really likes you."

Mark stayed tinged pink. "Really?"

She laughed. "Of course! I mean, he never tells me too much…but I know Marsh, and just by looking at his face whenever he gets home from seeing you, I know he's crazy about you."

Mark couldn't help the rather dopey smile that came onto his face.

Reye smiled at him. "And you know what, Sweettooth?"

"What?"

"Marshall's damn lucky, too."

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

So, thats it for now. I've dried up my shortlasting inspiration well. BUT this chapter only leaves me with one more fillerpage to write, and after that, the real fun starts. Because people have so much trouble reviewing this fic ; (20 people who have it on their favs, 48 who have it on alert, and only 2 reviews on both of my latest chapters...anyone want to explain that one? ...nobody loves me!!! wails and cries) hehehe, sorry, I'm prone to theatrics every now and then.

ANYWAYS, I thought that perhaps, if this chapter isn't enough to get people pressing that nifty review button, then I'd give some...tastes of the chapters to come. (many of which I have half written already...I'm unable to write a story straight through from beginning to end, I must write it in chunks, and never in order).

The ... signifies that I either took something out to cut down on spoilers or that the scene/sentence doesn't end there. [insert word means that I'm just clarifying a pronoun, like he/she. So anyways, here's what you have to look forward to (oh and PS: these are ordered randomly):

LINELINE  
He was seriously surprised, it didn't seem like Reye to do something like that. She opened her eyes and looked at him before laughing.

She leaned towards him with a lazy smirk. "Baby, you don't know what I'm like."

Mark's eyes widened. Her eyes...he had seen those eyes before, many times. ...  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
Roger laughed. "Is this Reye aware that you'll never pay this tab?"

Mark readied his angry reply before stopping himself as he realized Roger was joking with him. "Fuck off." He responded with a grin. Reaching out, Roger slugged him on the arm playfully.

They were silent for a moment before Roger said, "Hey, you want to go with me to my set tonight?"  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
Mark just stared at [Roger. He could hear every breathe from his lungs, feel every heartbeat. A knot formed in the center of his throat, choking him. He wasn't used to this... This fucking hurt...  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
Mark opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. He heard voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Then the voices got louder and one of them was shouting…and then two of them. And then a new voice came in and then it got quiet. Groaning, he threw an arm over his eyes, only to feel something tug at his skin. ...  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
He stumbled in, and nearly fell into Roger. He looked up at him, noting that Roger did not look happy.

"Where the hell have you been? Its five in the fucking morning and you didn't even come home last night!" Roger demanded.

Mark stared at him, irritated. "Where the hell have you been, Roger?"

"How the fuck does that make any goddamn-"

"And since when have you cared where I go?" he snapped, interrupting him.

Roger started yelling something, and then stopped, taking a step closer to Mark as he starts looking him up and down... Suddenly, Roger's eyes go wide...  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
Roger looked the filmmaker up and down. Mark was wearing brown corduroys and a green sweater. His scarf was missing, revealing numerous hickeys on his neck and leading down under his sweater. His eyes were half closed. His lips were dark and bruised.

Roger frowned deeper. Mark hated hickeys, always had, yet he kept coming home with more and more. He remembered how upset he had been after the one time Maureen had given him a hickey. He actually stood up to her about it and complained about it to Roger long after the actual hickey went away.  
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Roger watched the door shut before walking over to the couch and collapsing on it. He braced his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. For the first time he forced himself to see the truth: he had lost Mark.  
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	16. Good Fun with Good Friends

So I was going through my stuff and saw the date that I had last updated this, and was completely shocked to see that its been like 3 months…it really didn't seem that long, probably because that whole time I **have** been writing for this fic, just most of it future chapters. So, I felt massively guilty, found the three different places where I had almost this entire chapter written in different bits (the beginning on my laptop, a part of the middle on my typewriter, and some more in my immigration studies notebook), put it together and put on an ending just a few minutes ago. I am sorry that it took so long, I really did have most of it for a while, but I've been thinking about future chapters too much…oh, that and classes, work, and two organizations.

Don't own RENT or any of the characters therein.

Good Fun with Good Friends

"I win again!"

"No fair, you're not supposed to be that fast." Reye pouted.

Mark smirked. "Want to play again?"

Reye smiled. "Sure, but I'm going to whoop your ass this time!" She challenged as she set up the cards for another game of Speed. Mark took the opportunity to eat a few more bites of his sesame chicken that would be forgotten again as soon as the cards were set up. He had to admit that despite the fact that all they'd done since Reye had gotten off work was play card games and eat cheap Chinese food, he was having fun; plus he loved being in Reye's apartment for some reason. It was a nice change from the café, which, despite how they acted, was both a public venue and, technically, a business.

His instant agreement with the place also could have been caused by the comfy chaos of the apartment. It was a great deal smaller than the loft, but more cozy since it had more furniture. The surfaces were covered with interesting little knickknacks, art pieces, and decorations. The fact that none of it had any sort of color scheme that lasted more than a foot's width, or any sort of organization to the style just made it more appealing. There wasn't even a piece of furniture that matched any other piece in the apartment. It nearly looked cluttered, but was too clean to be. Mark settled on the appraisal that it had character.

After a few more games of Speed, with their food now long ago eaten, Reye stood up. "I'm getting a little tired of cards…"

"Because you're tired of it or because I keep beating you?" Mark teased.

She stuck out her tongue. "Oh shut it, Sweettooth…Hey, you wanna meet Adam?"

Mark's brow crinkled in confusion. "Who's Adam?"

She grinned and yanked on his arm to pull him up. "Com'n and see!"

Mark grudgingly got up and followed her to the back of the apartment, past the graffiti on the halls that read quite interesting things. He didn't manage to read very much, but he did catch a few scribbles that had arrows pointing to the rooms at the end of the hall.

"'Beware'?" he scoffed. "Rabid penguins ahead?"

She turned and laughed. "Hey, I was thirteen when I moved in here, remember? There's a lot of childish stuff written on these walls…and don't worry, Marshall made me get rid of the penguins after they attacked his last boyfriend."

Mark stared for a second then laughed. _I certainly know how to find the characters._

There were two doorways at the end of the hall. One to the left hand side, and one straight ahead. The one to the left was completely painted burgundy, including the doorknob which was chipped in a few spots because it was house paint over a metal knob. There was an old black and white photograph at head level of the door of an extreme close-up of a human eye.

_Creepy_. Mark thought, starring at the eye that was very distinct and clear, despite the photo's faded edges.

Reye disappeared through the doorway straight ahead of him, which had no door, just a black curtain followed by a multicolored, wooden, beaded curtain.

"My room." Reye stated in explanation as she reached out and pulled Mark through the curtains.

_Well, her room fits her._ Mark thought as he looked around. Reye had, in terms of furniture, a wooden vanity desk, a stool, a bed, and a bookshelf. The vanity was lavender, but had been painted many times in different colors, as was proven by the paint chips all over it that showed the different layers underneath. The mirror wasn't very helpful since it had a crack going all the way across it and it only reflected from the center since Reye had covered the edges with pictures and various papers. The desk was cluttered with various jewelry, make-up, and random pieces of ribbon, buttons, lace, bottle caps, and other odds and ends. Against the mirror were small baskets and boxes that held more jewelry and make-up. The bookshelf was spray painted black, and all four shelves, plus the top, were filled to the limit with books of all lengths, many of which appeared to be heavily read. The stool had a cushion made out of ripped t-shirts and duct tape, but appeared sturdy. The bed was a mattress on the floor and was a mess of pillows of random sizes and color, rainbow handmade quilts that were falling to shreds, and, to Mark's amusement, My Little Pony bed sheets. The floor was a messy disaster of shoes, clothes, books, papers, and random hard objects that made Mark wonder how Reye ever made it from the bed to the door alive. Every inch of the ceiling was covered with photographs, drawn pictures, magazine clippings, cut outs from posters, and loads of other random things, including some objects glued to the ceiling: dice, a slinky, a mutilated doll head, vinyl records, etc. The walls were the only thing uncluttered, which was strange. There was nothing on the walls except for about twenty paintings, all hung in a straight row that went all the way around the room, with a few starting a new row above the old ones. Mark immediately noticed that the paintings went in order, because they progressively got better.

Reye went over to the corner of the room near her bed, and pulled up a glass terrarium that Mark hadn't noticed. Inside was a fat mouse.

"This is Adam." Reye declared proudly.

Mark wrinkled his nose slightly. "You keep a mouse as a pet? …in New York City?"

She scowled at him. "That's precisely why! I found Adam in the kitchen almost three years ago, and I was so impressed that he had survived it out on those tough streets with all those vicious New York rats and alley cats that I decided that he needed early retirement. He's the sweetest thing, lets you hold him without a problem. And I give him baths, so he's not even dirty." She explained. "I used to have another one, one I bought from the store for Adam to have company. Snake food, technically, but still a good pet."

"Let me guess, Eve?"

Reye smirked. "No. Steve." Mark laughed. "But Alas! Steve was not to last, poor thing died after not even a year. Poor Adam was heartbroken, but he's recovered. I'd get him another one, snake food is super cheap over at the pet store, but I don't want to put him through the loss again; domestic mice just don't have the same gumption, they aren't survivors like Adam."

"I see." Mark said, looking at the very content looking mouse. "I think you're feeding him too much."

"Adam doesn't live by media-enforced, unrealistic beauty ideals. I'm not going to deny him food so he can look like those anorexic mice on tv." They both laughed, before she put the cage down.

Mark looked around the room again, eyes falling on the paintings. "Did you paint those?" he asked.

Reye shook her head. "Nah. Marshall did."

"Marshall did those?"

"Yep. Every one."

Mark looked at her, surprised. "I didn't know Marshall paints."

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm the only one who does, and I probably wouldn't if I didn't live with him. He doesn't like to make a big deal out of it, says that its just a medium for a type of artistic drive he can't express through photographs." She motioned to the paintings on the walls. "He tried to throw those all out…tries to throw everything he paints away, says they're not good…so I started pulling them out of the trash, because I can't stand for them to just be thrown away. I'm not sure if he even knows that I started saving them, since he doesn't really come in here."

"He probably doesn't want to get eaten."

Reye smacked him on the arm. "Oh lay off, I just cleaned in here…last week."

Mark gave her a look.

"Well…maybe it was two weeks ago…whatever, _I_ know where everything is and that's all that matters."

"If you say so…I think that it makes tent city look like a maid's quarters, but okay." He teased.

There was a moment of silence before Mark spoke, "So…speaking of Marshall, where's he at?" he asked, careful to keep his tone casual and nonchalant.

Reye grinned at him teasingly. "Careful, Marky. Don't want to get needy now."

The filmmaker rolled his eyes. "I was merely curious. Curiosity does not equate need."

She smirked. "Oh you know I'm just messing with you, Sweettooth. Marsh is working, shooting a wedding or something. He should be back in a few hours."

"I see."

They lounged in Reye's room and talked about pretty much nothing of terrific importance for about an hour, before Reye decided that she was going to go to sleep and Mark could stay or go. He decided to go, afraid he'd creep out Marshall if he was just hanging around waiting for him.

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Mark walked into the loft, putting his bag down and going to the kitchen. "Hey." He said to Roger, who was working on a crossword puzzle in the paper. "How's Mrs. Powers doing?" Mark asked.

Roger ignored him. Mark sighed; The Silent Treatment. He hated The Silent Treatment. Maureen used to do it to him all the time, but at least when Maureen did it he deserved it…or she thought that he did. Mark decided that he wasn't going to let it get him down, though. He'd had a really nice day with Reye, and he wasn't going to get upset just because his roommate was behaving like a five year old.

Going into the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and blatantly counted Roger's pills. Upon seeing that Roger hadn't taken his dose that he'd been due to take at just about the time Mark got there, he took a pill and set it on the table in front of the musician, "Take your AZT." He said, part of him hoping to get even an angry reaction of Roger and part of him angry that Roger was so set on avoiding him that he hadn't even gotten up to take his AZT just because Mark had come home and was in the kitchen.

Roger didn't even look up.

Shrugging, Mark went into his room, figuring that since it was still early, he could at least work on editing the film he'd done over the past few weeks. Most of it was rather uninspired, but it gave him something to do. As he sorted through the rolls, he found some images of the two, potentially, homeless girls and couldn't help smiling. In the film, they were in the park, doing cartwheels, rolling around in the grass, play fighting and wrestling, sword fighting with sticks, etc. They looked, for all intents and purposes, as if they had no cares in the world. _I need to stop filming them…someone's going to think that I'm a pervert or something_. He put the reels aside in the box that was becoming their own.

Going through some more reels, he grabbed a reel that was of an old man sitting under a bridge, asking for spare change. Most people ignored him as the hurried past. He flipped through a few more reels, most of them were images of homeless people and Reye, Marshall, and himself.

Mark picked up another reel and after looking at it for a moment, couldn't resist putting it on the projector. After a few minutes an image of Reye appeared on the wall.

_Reye messed around with a radio that she kept in the back of the counter. As the music came on, she began dancing, her hips moving slightly awkwardly since she lacked natural rhythm, a fact that Mark and Marshall teased her mercilessly for. Mark put the camera down. Within a moment, Reye picked it back up. Mark surprised himself by not making a move to stop her; he was beginning to trust her with his camera more. She pointed the camera at the boys as Marshall danced around the café with Mark. They danced close, Marshall's body moving with the music a lot more smoothly than Mark's rigid frame. Marshall put his hands on Mark's hips, guiding his pelvis to sway and gyrate with the unfamiliar salsa beat. Mark learned the steps easily, but continued to have issues with the hip movement, which no one minded since Marshall just liked to have fun and Mark loved the warm pressure of Marshall's hands on his waist._

Mark watched the scene with a huge smile on his face, the unpleasantness with Roger already forgotten.

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PS: Thank you, everyone for the lovely reviews!! Glad to see that people are intrigued by the sneak peeks ;).

Feel free to review again:P


	17. Frustration, Shock, and Uncertainty

Hey all. I am SO SORRY about the absolutely INSANE wait!! I hope you all forgive me! I know its not much of an excuse but...college was insane, my organizations are kicking my ass, work, looking for work, and being poor without work takes a lot of time...plus I just could not get this chapter right, its a very important and very tough chapter...but I hope you guys like it. Thank you all SO much for all of the reviews and support! I hope that this was close to worth the wait...

I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do not own creativity, I just slurp some up from the gutters of literature and insanity.

Frustration, Shock, and Uncertainty

Mark yawned, pushing his ramen around without much desire to finish it. It wasn't really that his body wasn't hungry, it was more his sour mood that ruined his appetite. Roger still wasn't talking to him, and Reye had a dentist appointment. He wasn't going to see her or Marshall until later that night; there was a party at Tank's house that they were all going to, together. He just had to get through the few hours between now and when he finally got to see them again. He had a strange feeling that he was getting a little too addicted to being around Marshall…and forgetting what it was like not to have Reye as a friend…but it wasn't like that was such a bad thing.

_Imagine, friends who neither want to use me nor treat me less than kindly. What a nightmare!_ he thought with a laugh. He stirred around the noodles for a few minutes more before finally giving up on gaining any more appetite and rather guiltily threw them out, thinking of how they really didn't have the money to be wasting food.

_At least ramen is incredibly cheap._

Roger wandered out of his room, going past Mark without a single glance as he made his way to the fridge. Mark rolled his eyes, deciding that he needed a shower.

LINE

Mark cringed in pain at the stinging in his eyes; he'd opened his eyes in surprise at the almost violent knocking on the door, shampoo quickly rushing into the sensitive membranes.

"What?" he yelled, running his face under the uneven water spray.

"Get the fuck outta there, I gotta piss!" Roger's angry voice came at him.

Mark groaned. Roger had pissed with him in the shower, and vice versa, hundreds of times. Why was he making such a deal out of it now?

The harsh pounding continued, Mark momentarily wondering if the door would hold.

"Would you just hold on?" he growled out, rinsing the remaining suds from his hair. Taking a final rinse, he shut the water off and grabbed his towel. The pounding didn't subside.

_Oh just piss off the roof, why dontcha?_ Mark thought, annoyed.

"What the fuck is the hold up, you goddamn girl? Let me in!"

Mark rolled his eyes, roughly drying off for a moment before wrapping the towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom. Roger stood on the other side, looking frustrated.

"Bout fucking time, Cohen. I would've pissed in **your** bed, had you taken any longer." He said, sounded disgusted as he shoved past the puzzled filmmaker and slammed the bathroom door shut with a harsh bang.

Mark walked over his room, deciding that it was a nice enough day: he could go out filming until Tank's party.

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Reye laughed, whacking Mark over the head with a breadstick.

"Hey! Don't get my hair all greasy just because your tights are hideous."

"Douche!" she laughed. "Like corduroys and plaid are designer. I'll have you know that color is lively, perfect for a party."

"Uh huh." Mark grinned, looking up and down at Reye's outfit: a skintight, black, long sleeved, sheer top under a turquoise belly shirt, a black mini-skirt, and topped off with tights covered in neon, multicolored splotches.

_If she had some more make-up on and curlier hair, she'd make a perfect circus clown_. Mark thought with a smirk.

"You know what, this is the last time I ask _you_ what you think of my outfit. I guess not **all** gay men know style." She replied snarkily.

"Oh, I'm 'Gay' now, am I? I thought sexuality was undefined?" Mark teased.

Reye squinted at him. "Oh shut it." She tried being angry before bursting out laughing. "Fine, you win…But I'm still wearing the tights." She concluded, absently chewing on the breadstick she'd been whacking Mark with before.

Mark laughed, falling back on the couch he'd been lounging on. "So when are we gonna go?"

"Mm, as soon as Marshall gets here. He went to Kara's house for a bit. He should be back soon." She answered, her mouth half full of greasy bread.

"I see." He adjusted himself, pulling a pillow from an uncomfortable place at his spine and unceremoniously chucking it at Reye's head.

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Mark watched Marshall dance with Reye with a grin, laughing at the crazy, offbeat moves they made up to the funky dance music. Reye's wild arm movements and too high steps didn't do much to dissuade his clown image of her. Marshall suddenly turned, a laughing grin on his face as he held out his hand to Mark, beckoning him to join them. Mark hesitated only for a moment before Gina pushed him from behind, and he found himself bounding over to the dancing group and joining with his silly friends. They danced around together, the three of them not really standing out from the crowd of drunk and jubilant dancers.

Several songs later, Marshall wiped the sweat from his face, laughing as he grabbed Mark's hand, pulling him from the dance floor. Reye remained behind, pulling a nearby boy against her as she continued dancing. The boy didn't seem to mind at all, quickly adapting to her sense of (off)beat.

Marshall plopped down into a beat up armchair, pulling Mark down onto his lap. Mark blushed slightly, hoping that no one noticed but not particularly inclined to move. Instead, he leaned back lightly into the warm chest behind him, happily accepting the beer that Tyler offered him.

They talked for a while, Marshall, Tyler, Lillia, Canvas, Joey and himself, laughing and drinking cheap beer for over an hour. At a lull in the conversation, Tyler and Lillia stood up.

"We're heading off to the back for a bit...anyone want to go? We'll lead."

Mark squinted in slight confusion, but stayed silent as he watched Canvas and Joey decline.

Lillia looked at Marshall. "You wanna, Marsh? You're usually in the back."

Marshall shook his head, "Not this time, bo'peep, but thanks anyways." He caught the look she sent Mark and intervened before she could ask. "Mark's good too. Try my sis; Reye'll usually go in for a pinch." They agreed and walked off.

Mark scrunched his brow. "Did I miss something or did you just get invited to an orgy?" he whispered in Marshall's ear.

The photographer laughed, nearly losing it. "No, babes, no, definitely not an orgy." he chuckled. "I'll explain another time."

Mark accepted this with a shrug, going back to the conversation as Joey asked him a question. Marshall squeezed his waist, getting his attention.

"I'm going to go grab a drink, Tank said he had some patron and that he'd save me a bit. You want me to bring you a shot?"

"Yeah sure, just a little…and a chaser." Mark answered, getting off Marshall's lap and letting him stand.

"Okay, I'll be back in a min, babes." Marshall leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before disappearing into the kitchen. Mark settled back into the armchair.

After a few minutes Reye drifted in and perched herself on the arm of Mark's chair. By this time, Joey and Canvas had gotten up to dance and Mark and her were the only ones in a two-foot radius. Reye grinned down at Mark crookedly. "Heya Sweettooth." She crooned.

"You dance with that boy all this time?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughed. "Nah, he was hopeless. Couldn't even dance well." She sighed, leaning back into his shoulder.

Mark looked at her. "You seem pleased about something, though. Find someone else?"

She shook her head slowly. "Nah… well, I gave this guy a blow job, but he wasn't nothing special. I just owed him one."

Mark gaped at her, shocked into silence for a moment. "You did what?" he stuttered after the shock wore off.

She chuckled, looking up at him through her lashes from her place on his shoulder. "I bet you think I'm a whore, now, huh?" she was patronizing him.

He shook his head. "No...no, you're not a whore…I don't really believe in that…its just that I don't get why you'd do something so...cheap. You don't need to do stuff like that, Reye, not if you don't care about someone…its so demeaning...its so not you." He was seriously surprised, it didn't seem like Reye to do something like that. She was such a strong person. 'Owing' someone a sexual act seemed…below her.

She opened her eyes wider and gazed at him before laughing. She leaned towards him, coming close to his face with a lazy smirk. "Baby, you don't know what I'm like."

Mark's eyes widened as he stared at her. Her eyes...he had seen those eyes before, many times. "Reye...are you high?" he asked quietly.

She laughed. "You're a sharp one, Sweettooth."

Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as he fell back against the couch, pushing her gently off him in the same movement. Life felt surreal. "On what?" he asked, not positive he wanted to know.

"Junk, H, the bitch, demon sugar, dragon." She named off, almost tauntingly.

Mark sat up straight and peered at her. "You mean heroin?" he asked, disbelief touching his tone.

She nodded, a lazy smile still on her face. He fell back against the chair again, moving so he wasn't even touching her. "Oh that is just terrific." He muttered sardonically.

She smiled and fell back against him, "Ain't it, Sweettooth?"

He sighed. A cold feeling was spreading throughout his whole body, and he suddenly felt so frustrated and angry that it was like physical pain. "No, no not at all...Where's your brother at? Does he know what you're doing?" He started looking around for the photographer until Reye's laughter made him look over at her.

"Back room, Sweetie. You'll find him in the back room."

Mark rubbed at his eyes. "He does it too, doesn't he?" he asked softly, the earlier conversation with Tyler and Lillia suddenly making a whole lot more sense.

Reye nodded.

He sighed. _Come on Life, give me a fucking break. At least once. And it had to be fucking heroin again. Fate hates me._ He struggled to grasp onto the conversation; it felt as if his life was spinning out of control and he could barely hold on for the ride.

"God Reye, why would you do it? Why? What about my story? Don't you remember any of that shit I told you? I told you about April, about Mimi, about Roger, how could you hear that and still take this shit?" his voice was shaking now.

She opened her eyes and peered at him. "M'not an addict. Promise." She murmured.

He rested his head in his hands for a few moments. _I can't deal with this. I cannot fucking take this. I thought I found some fucking normal friends for once. Is the whole world on drugs? _He took another look at Reye, but he knew it was no use at all to talk to her while she was in this state.

Standing he said, "I'm going to go home now, Reye. I'll see you Monday at the cafe."

She looked up at him with a lopsided smile. "Okie dokie, Marky. I'm going to go dance now."

He watched her get up and dance over towards the music, more drifting on her foot than walking. Shaking his head, he headed towards the door when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see Marshall looking at him, concern shining in his golden eyes and cups cradled in his other hand.

"What's going on, babes? Are you leaving?" he inquired.

Mark nodded. "Yeah. I don't feel comfortable here."

Marshall frowned, "Why, what happened?"

"Heroin happened." Mark muttered before turning towards the door again. His hand was on the doorknob when a hand landed on his shoulder again. "Marshall, this whole thing has just blown my mind and you're probably floating so high you don't give a shit."

"Mark, I'm not high." Mark turned around.

"Seriously? Reye said you were."

Marshall leaned forward. "Mark, look at my eyes. I'm not high. You saw me turn it down earlier."

Mark leaned towards him slightly. A smile touched his lips when he saw the golden green orbs, pupils at their normal size. "You aren't high...are you?" He said, relief evident in his voice.

Marshall smiled. "Not at all."

The slight smile fell from the filmmaker's face as he thought of something. "But normally, you would be." It wasn't a question.

Marshall looked at him for a moment before answering, "Yes, not always but sometimes I would. I wasn't ever going to do it around you until I had talked to you first." He let the answer sink in before continuing. "Do you want to take a walk? If you want, I could just walk you home?"

Mark was silent for a moment. The truth was, he liked Marshall. More than he ever expected himself to. And Reye was…well, somewhere along the line she had become his best friend. And the heroin thing stung that much worse because of that. ...And yet...maybe he could find out about it, see if it was something he could talk Reye and him out of. He sighed. Truth be told, he just wanted to have some hope for them. Both of them. They were worth the trouble…and he didn't want to have to give them up.

"Okay, a walk sounds good."

A smile touched Marshall's face. "Good... Do you want your drink right quick before we go?"

Mark chuckled softly. "Yeah, I could really use that."

They left, walking for a short while in silence. Mark knew it wasn't the smartest action to be walking around Alphabet City at night, especially since there were only two of them. But it wasn't like either of them had anything worth stealing anyways. After a moment, Marshall looked over at him. Mark met his eyes and sighed.

"Why do you do it?"

Marshall smiled sadly. "Honestly? Because there's no why not."

Mark stared at him in disbelief. "No why not? Do you have any idea what that shit did to my best friend, to his girlfriend...girlfriends, to my fucking life? There are so many reasons why not. Its illegal for one, you can get HIV from the needles, it fucking kills your body, you get addicted and it runs your life...you become a different person while on it. I should know, I had to live with a fucking heroin version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and help him through withdrawal. You can't act like heroin isn't a big deal." He couldn't quite help the quick, high, almost panicked tone to his voice, not even embarrassed over it at this point.

After he finished, Marshall stared at him for a while. "Wow...Reye never told me about any of that. It makes me really glad I didn't do up tonight. Look...I don't want to argue with you...but understand that I'm not stupid. Reye and I have our own needles, and we don't share with anyone. And we aren't addicts, we just shoot up ever once in a while, chase the dragon at parties sometimes. And a lot of our friends do it, we keep each other in check. We're careful about everything. And it hasn't been too long that we've been doing it. We just like to have fun, feel good every once in a while…" he paused for a few moments, but Mark didn't move to interrupt him. "And as for health...everything hurts your health: cigarettes, alcohol, salt, coffee...and heroin is probably better than all of those..." Marshall looked at Mark for a moment, who stayed silent.

"Look Mark, I never once thought I'd do heroin. I thought it was a foolish thing to do and a dangerous thing to get caught up in. I was afraid of getting addicted...and honestly I never even saw the point. But one night at a party Reye tried it...she was always so much more open to things than I was. She started up after that, and I didn't like it but I couldn't stop her…She's an adult, she makes her own choices…and as much as I act like her big brother, I have no right to control her. She was always raving about it, saying how good it feels…So one night I gave it a shot...and it was amazing. And I honestly don't regret it now, because I'm not addicted...neither of us are, and I'm always smart about it. We don't do it every day, or even every week…It's just like alcohol. Not everyone who drinks becomes an alcoholic. Some do, but many don't. Its all about control."

They had stopped walking at some point, and now Mark stood, starring Marshall in the face. He felt like screaming and crying at the same time, and some strange part of him was actually finding a bit of reason in Marshall's words. He stopped that train of thought before it got too far, though.

"How long until it controls you?" he asked quietly.

Marshall took his hand, stroking the knuckles softly. "If you really hate it so much, I won't use anymore. I told you that I'm not addicted, its nothing for me to quit…I wouldn't hold out much hope for Reye to stop, she's strong headed, that one… But I will… if that's even good enough."

Mark continued to stare at him, unsure what to think anymore.

Marshall took a hard breath. "Tell you what, babes, you think about me…**us**…for a bit, and leave me a note at the café…let me know if we can still work." He leaned forward, and Mark let him place a light kiss on his cheek. With that, Marshall turned and started walking away, and Mark continued on his way home in a slight daze.

That night, he tossed and turned for hours, going over everything in his mind…and not sure what he even thought anymore.

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SO..what'd you think? Please let me know, this was a really hard chapter to get out…I actually rewrote it…quite a few times, and I still don't think its quite right. Something about Marshall's speech still isn't sitting right with me…but its done, so that's that. Reviews are very much loved! ;)


	18. All's Well that Ends Well

Tried to update sooner this time...but unfortunately, I couldn't find enough inspiration for this chapter, and its rather...thin. I think that it was just something that had to be written, not something that I really wanted to express, and thats why... but here it is, please review. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going after this...but expect more filler pages for a little bit, before the plot really gets going.

Don't own RENT, Mark, Roger, or Alphabet City. I do own my characters and a bootleg copy of The Dark Knight...hehehe

All's Well that Ends Well

Mark took a deep breath as he stepped down into the cafe. Reye looked up as soon as the door shut, a cautious smile on her face as he walked over to the counter.

"Hey Mark." she said carefully.

"What ´s with calling me Mark, Miss Reye?¨ he asked with a smile.

A look of slight relief crossed her face, but she still sounded cautious. "What´s with you being nice? You should hate me right now...after everything...I would...Marshall told me how upset you were, I wasn´t sure if you´d ever come back...But I´m really glad to see you."

His smile faltered just a bit, but he remained friendly. "A pack of wild horses wouldn´t be able to keep me away from my favorite teeny-bopper." he joked.

She laughed and then there was a slightly awkward pause, a pure rarity for them.

Finally, Reye sighed. "Look Sweettooth...I´m sorry...really I am...I don´t know what I was thinking- doing up when you were there- I never should have done that around you...knowing what you´ve been through..." she trailed off, sounding honestly uncomfortable.

Mark looked at her levelly. "Whether or not I´m there doesn´t matter...its that you´re doing it at all." he took a hard breath. "...Seriously Reye, how can you do it? How can you think its a good idea?"

She sighed. "Its hard to explain, Sweettooth...I know I should have told you that I did it a long time ago... but I was afraid to... I was afraid of your history with it...I was afraid that you´d stop being my friend if you knew that I used..." she stopped and shrugged. "...I was also planning to tell you, I really was...eventually... And I really am sorry about how you found out."

"Is that what you really think of me, Miss Reye? You think that I am _that_ judgemental? ...I will never stop being your friend just because of heroin...If that was enough to drive me away, I would have stopped being friends with Roger when he was an addict... I just hate it, and I can´t stand the thought that you do it..." he stopped and caught her gaze. "I want you to stop...please, for me?"

She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I´m sorry Sweettooth...Don´t be upset with me, I still love you... You´re my friend, and I care about what you think...but I´m not going to give it up ...Its not that I´m addicted, its not that I **can´t** stop...its that I don´t want to. I´m not ready to give it up yet... I know you can´t understand...but if you ever tried it, you would. I´m not going to do it forever...but right now, I want to. ...Please, cant you just let it go?"

Mark felt a wave of anger rise up in him before being beat down by a stronger wave of resignation. He couldn´t believe Reye was being so stubborn about something so dangerous...but he already knew that Marshall was right about her, and that she´d never stop if it wasn´t what SHE wanted...she really was stubborn like that.

He sighed. "I´m never going to be okay with it...but I´m not about to turn my back on you. When you're ready to stop, you tell me, and I'll help you."

She sighed. "Alright...but I'm telling you, when I'm ready to go straight, I won't need you...I won't get addicted...if I ever do, _then _you can force me to stop."

There was another awkward silence, before Reye caught his gaze and gave him a hard look. "You know, its strange that you're still my friend when I'm going to keep using and you broke up with Marshall when he offered to stop." he easily heard the accusation in her voice, but couldn't say anything. "...He really will stop, you know...he never used that much anyways...He's really upset, you know...he really likes you."

Mark sighed and nodded. "I know...and I've thought about this a lot. I'm going to talk to him."

Reye smiled approvingly and quickly pulled out a scrap of paper and pen. "Well, what're you waiting for, write him a note!" she urged.

Mark laughed. Grabbing the paper, he thought a moment before scrawling:

_Marshall,_

_I've thought about you...us...and I've made a decision. Meet me outside the cafe tomorrow night, 7pm?_

_Mark_

"Don't read it!" Mark warned, folding it up and handing it to the barista.

She grinned toothily at him. "Oh, like I'm the type to get into other people's business. I'm offended."

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark smiled softly as they walked down towards their favorite Chinese restaurant, fingers entwined. In the end, Marshall had needed no explanation, and Mark had needed no further apology. They had only spoken for a few moments before the awkwardness melted away and, with one lingering kiss, things were back to normal.

They ate good Chinese food, and talked for hours, and neither the subject of heroin nor his or Reye's past/present usage of it was ever brought up.

In the end, Mark couldn't force himself to talk about it. He knew he couldn't forget...but he could put off thinking about it for a while, in the very least. Marshall wasn't going to use anymore, that was the most important thing in terms of his relationships. He could work on Reye...she was still very young, she would make quite a few mistakes in these years; he had no doubt that she would recover from her naivety before she had a chance to ruin her life. He knew there was a slight risk in trusting Marshall's word that he wouldn't use...and in continuing to be around the drug that had so badly affected his life...but he already trusted Marshall more than anyone...and it wasn't like he had much better options in friends. He'd rather be around Marshall and Reye, both high out of their minds, than a completely lucid Roger anyday.

It was this realization that really made him start analyzing what was left of his relationship with Roger. They'd been best friends for years, and now Roger treated him like shit, more often than not. He tried to shrug it off...had been trying for a while now, but now he was realizing that he just couldn't anymore. He had to confront Roger.

LINELINELINELINE

So thats it for now. Sorry that its so incredibly short...I just needed to get this out of my system. I should update...within the month. If I don't, feel free to bitch me out over e-mail ;)


	19. Confrontations, Conversations, and Pain

I actually made a fast update! Yay me!! ...although I don't think it really counts, because this chapter is majorly short. ...It wasn't what I was planning at all, but this morning I put my fingers against the keyboard and this just streamed out of my fingertips as if I wasn't even the one doing it...so I went with it. Again, sorry its so short... let me know what you think though...I know that in terms of Mark/Roger, this one is kinda major.

Don't own RENT or any of the characters therein.

Confrontations, Conversations, and Pain

Mark glanced at the calendar for the tenth time. According to its worn pages, Roger's day was free. Mark had always found it funny that while Roger's room, style, and whole life, really, was spontaneous and untidy, he had always kept a careful schedule of his gigs and appointments. Every year, the musician would buy a new calendar, and every important event would be inked in an untidy scrawl on the appropriate date.

Roger was still sleeping, and Mark was determined to wait all day if he had to: he was going to sit down with his roommate, and find out what had happened to their friendship. He'd had about enough of how things had been going...and was a little surprised at himself for accepting things for as long as he had. He nibbled on a stale piece of toast as he leaned against the counter, and waited.

A few minutes later Roger's bedroom door opened, and a half asleep musician wandered over to the bathroom and shut himself in. Mark took a hard breath, his heart hammering as he waited. Finally, the bathroom door opened and Roger started going back towards his room. Mark quickly intercepted his path.

Roger frowned at him. "What do you want?"

Mark chewed his lip for a moment. "I need to talk to you."

Roger hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, whatever." he went over and sat down on the couch, quickly joined by Mark. "So what do you want?"

Mark wasn't positive how to even begin, so he was silent for a long moment. Roger quickly started to look annoyed, so Mark decided to start the only way he could think of. "We used to be good friends, you know...what happened?"

Roger stared at him, and he actually looked at a loss for words, so Mark continued.

"After Mimi, everything changed...and don't pretend like it hasn't. I don't know what I ever did to make you act so...well the only word that really explains it- cruelly to me... and I just want to understand what's going through your head." he said haltingly.

Roger was silent for a long moment, and Mark quietly searched his eyes. For a moment, he was sure that he saw something that looked almost like guilt shining in those green irises, but he couldn't be sure. At a length, Roger spoke.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mark...I admit that we don't spend so much time together, and I get angry a lot...but that doesn't mean shit... You know, I think you're just wanting too much attention..." He said slowly, his tone strangely gentle in comparison to his words. He stood up and turned away from former best friend. "People change...I wish you'd just stop whining about it and live your own life...I gotta go, I need to practice for a gig tonight." with that he went into his room and shut the door, Mark wincing at the sound of the lock clicking.

Mark found himself getting up and going up to the roof. He climbed up on the ledge, and sat with his legs dangling over the side. He needed to think.

_He lied...he doesn't have a gig tonight. I want attention? How fucking ridiculous can he get? ...Why won't he just explain things to me? Why the fuck does he hate me so much? ...Why does he not even care that he's so mean? Why can't he just understand that I miss the way things used to be...and I just want it to go back?_

Mark sighed, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees as he stared out at the street. For the longest time, he'd been forcing himself to ignore how Roger had become. He'd forced himself to let it roll over him, to make himself angry if he had to feel anything...but he had to admit, at the end of the day...he was more hurt than anything else. Roger had been his best friend...for years. He'd never been the most amazing friend...sometimes he'd been a downright bad friend...but he'd never intentionally hurt him the way he was now. Something about that was not only painful, it was crippling. His friend...was being cruel, was hurting him, and seemed to be perfectly fine with it.

For the first time, Mark acknowledged just how much he hurt...just how upset Roger was making him. He sat up on the roof for a few hours, and just let go.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark climbed through the window, going straight for Roger who was sitting on the counter, eating dry cereal out of the box. He'd had a long time to think about things, and he'd reached a conclusion: living in the loft with someone who only caused him frustration and pain...was just plain unhealthy. He wasn't positive on how he'd do it without an income...but he was sure that Reye and Marshall would let him live there until he found a place.

Roger looked up at him, obviously annoyed. "What do you want now?"

Mark firmed his resolve. "I think that its a good idea for me to move out...probably early next week."

Mark watched Roger's eyes widen and then quickly narrow. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm going to find my own place..."

Roger made a disgusted sound. "Oh thats a brilliant idea. You're paranoid and lonely with a roommate, you're really going to do well on your own." he scoffed. "What the fuck is your problem, Mark? My girlfriend just fucking died, I take a little while to recover and immediately you're ready to leave? You're really fucking weak, you know that?" Mark just watched in silent stupor as Roger seemed to get angrier and angrier, his voice rising to a shout. "This is honestly one of the stupidest ideas you've ever had. You don't even have a goddamn job, how are you expecting to pay for a place? You're pathetic. You'll never make it on your own. Just get over yourself and stop being such a goddamn drama queen!"

"Why are you...reacting like this? I thought you'd be happy I was leaving." Mark said softly.

Roger rolled his eyes. "You are an asshole, Mark. And you're fucking stupid. Learn to plan things out, you can't leave...you'd never make it. ...Just drop it, I don't want to talk about this anymore. Fucking moron."

He shoved himself off the table and stormed over to his room, slamming his door shut.

Mark collapsed against the table as he ran the argument over in his head...and tried to decide what it had meant.

_Fuck this...I'm going to go see Reye...maybe see if Marshall's busy. I just need to get out._

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

I meant to add a lot more onto this chapter...its so goddamn short...but I feel like posting it now. ...After this, time is going to pass quickly for a couple chapters. I need to get this thing going.

Lo siento, but don't expect an update this soon from me again...but once again, if I take longer than a month, go ahead and bitch me out...and I know you will ;P

PS: I already know exactly what I'm going to do with this story and where I'm taking it...I already have a bunch of it written, actually...just way ahead. ...however, I love reading people's suggestions and ideas, they're amusing...and usually rather creative. So don't feel shy about letting me know what you think should happen.


	20. MakeUp and Highnights

So I have a confession to make...I actually had this chapter finished...about four days ago (the day after I last updated...) but I put off posting it...because I was busy, and I wanted more reviews hehehe...and also because I kinda wanted to make people wait...mwahahaha. :P

Its still a pretty fast update for me, though, so don't hate ;o

Don't own RENT. The End.

Make-up and Highnights

Reye giggled quietly as she slid lipstick over a full lower lip. She admired her handiwork, making one last stroke over a now perfectly painted ruby mouth. The eyeshadow was a touch too blue for her liking, but it worked well enough for the occasion. At the sound of the front door opening, she quickly scrambled to her feet and disapeared from her spot beside the couch.

Marshall walked into the apartment, setting his camerabag down on the table. "Honey, I'm home." he called jokingly.

Mark woke up at the voice, yawning as he got up to greet his boyfriend. "Hey Marsh." he murmured sleepily.

Marshall took one look at him before bursting into laughter. "Aw, babes, you got all dolled up for me! I'm touched."

Mark frowned in confusion. "Dolled up?" he echoed. It was then that Mark heard Reye's badly stifled laughter from her hiding place in the hallway. "Reye! What did you do?" he cried, rushing over to the bathroom. He gaped for a moment at the image of himself before chuckling himself. He went to turn on the faucet when a hand stayed his arm.

"Leave it...you look kinda hot like that." Marshall teased.

Mark laughed. "Well, aren't you kinky."

Marshall tugged Mark close, running his thumb over a red bottom lip. "Mmm, you have no idea, babes." he breathed, leaning in for a kiss, quickly deepening it as he slid a strong hand to the back of Mark's head. They parted several moments later, Marshall's lips now as red as Mark's.

Reye laughed loudly, her face partially obstructed by Mark's camera in her hands. Mark pulled away to swat at her playfully.

"Oh, you're so funny, aren't you, Miss Reye? You just wait until **you** fall asleep. You may just wake up with a shaved head some day."

Reye laughed., dodging away from Mark. "Oh like you would, Sweettooth...actually, that's an interesting idea...I bet I could pull off a bald head..." she mused.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Teenagers."

They all laughed for a few minutes before Marshall pulled Mark back in for another lipsticky kiss. "You want to go to an art show downtown? It starts in about an hour."

Mark smiled. "Sure...do we know the artist?"

"Canvas' older sister. It should be good. And hey, you don't even have to wash your face if you don't want to. You do look so _purdy_ after all." he teased.

Mark swatted him.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark sighed as he walked into the loft. It was a little after two am, and he had basically only come home to sleep. It'd been three weeks since he had confronted Roger, and not much had changed between them. He never did move out. He'd thought about it a few more times, but he found himself never actually making any effort to. Instead, he'd started spending more time with Reye and Marshall, not just at the cafe and going out, but also just staying at their apartment for hours on end. He always left for the night though.

He'd also found good friends in Tyler and Gina. Tyler was an intense history buff with a love of conspiracy theories, and Mark found himself never bored by his ranting about scandals throughout US history. His girlfriend, Lillia, was pretty cool, too. She was kind of quiet, but when she did speak, she was very insightful and surprisingly and, usually bitingly, witty.

Gina was, Mark was convinced, at least partially insane. She pulled Mark, and sometimes others with them, along on her crazy adventures, and although always initially reluctant, he could never deny that he had fun. She made great footage, too. There was the day that they tried to commit minor crimes while holding clipboards (Gina's theory was that if you held a clipboard, you looked official and therefore people would assume you were doing what you were supposed to...they _had_ gotten away with stealing/defacing some government property) and he had a whole reel of them making graffiti on public buildings using their genitals as paintbrushes (Gina had gotten into this a lot more than Mark, and her boob prints were seen all along Alphabet City that week).

If Mark had to overlook certain habits that they had (Tyler was hopelessly addicted to heroin and Gina was a recreational user of ecstasy, acid, and even crack on occassions), he only counted himself lucky that they spent a few lucid moments with him.

He'd caught Reye using three times so far. Twice were at parties, and he'd overlooked those because he was beginning to understand that it was rather usual for her to chase at these parties. The second time, Marshall and he had come back to the apartment to find her doped up on the couch, syringe still next to her arm. He'd went through waves of fury and near-crying that day...but in the end, Marshall had talked him down and he let it go. He'd tried talking to both of them again, once or twice, to Reye about quitting and to Marshall about him being an enabler...it hadn't made any difference and he found himself resigning to it. She _wasn't_ addicted, after all, and she was smarter than she acted. The best he could do is make himself available when she would need him.

Roger wasn't anywhere around when he came into the loft. He momentarily assumed that he was sleeping before he remembered that he had a gig that night. He wasn't particularly tired, so he pulled the baggie that Marshall had given him out of his pocket, and inexpertly rolled a thin joint. Lounging back on the couch, he smoked lazily for a few moments before he heard the door open.

He didn't bother looking up until he saw the shadow over him.

"Ya know, its unhealthy to smoke alone." Roger's voice came down at him.

Mark looked up. "How so?"

Roger shrugged. "Sharing makes the world better?" he tried, snatching the joint out of Mark's hand and crashing down on the couch next to him, a light smirk dancing on his lips.

Mark shifted to make room, and watched Roger hold in the smoke for a moment. Slowly exhaling, he handed the joint back over to Mark.

"There was a crazy chick at the bar tonight. Climbed up on stage and tried to give Gerry- you know Gerry right?, the new drummer- a blow job while we were playing." he laughed softly as he took the joint back. "We had to get the bouncers to pull her off stage...sure bummed Gerry out when we did." he took a long drag, holding it in.

Mark chuckled. "Thats insane. How drunk was she?" a part of him realized that Roger was being unusually nice...but his weed addled mind didn't even question it. He felt too good.

Roger laughed, smoke streaming out of his mouth and nose. He handed back the joint, and coughed a bit before speaking. "Surprisingly, not that drunk. I mean, she could walk and all...I think she was just fuckin' nuts." They both laughed a little, before they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they finished off the blunt.

"I miss this." Mark said after a long moment. Roger looked at him in a silent question, and Mark gestured between them, momentarily forgetting what he had meant to say and gesturing for much longer than necessary. "This...us...just sitting here...Remember when you, me and Collins used to just smoke and chill for hours? ...That was fun..." he trailed off.

Roger was silent for a moment. "Man, this shit ain't bad, Marky. I'm already high as fuck...Nice job." Roger complimented as he stood up, not responding to Mark's mini rant. The room spun a little as he started heading over to his room. "I'm going to bed, fuckin' tired as hell...'Night."

"Night Rog." Mark mumbled, before curling up on the couch and falling asleep right there.

LINELINELINE

The next day, Mark was a little surprised at Roger's temper, and that his good mood hadn't stretched until morning. He finally shrugged it off, deciding to take the memory as what it was: just a good night.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Sorry, another short chapter...The next chapter though, is going to lead into much more eventful stuff...its actually almost completely done (it has been for...like 5 months, I've just been waiting for the story to progress enough for me to upload it)...unfortunately, its on my flashdrive...which I can't find right now...so who knows when I'll update again. ...I really, really, REALLY do not want to rewrite it...mainly because I don't remember it completely...and things are never as good as originally when I rewrite them from scratch...however, if a couple months go by, and I still can't find the blasted thing, I will rewrite it. Thanks for the great reviews, and I'd love to see some more ;)


	21. Bad Days and Bad News

So, I finally found my flashdrive...but, as it turns out, the chapter that I was looking for isn't actually on it...I'm thinking that its on one of my old zipdisks, since I did write it an awful long time ago...The issue with that is not finding the zipdisk, but instead finding a computer with a zipdrive, since my new one doesn't have a zipdrive, and most of the computer labs on campus don't either... Then I thought about it, and decided that it was actually for the best since I now want to add a filler chapter here. So I looked around on my flashdrive and found a random piece of writing that had no designated place in the story, so I added some girth and length, and found that it actually fits rather well at this point in the fic.

Don't own RENT.

Bad Mornings and Bad News

Mark woke up to yelling. Blinking back the blurry vision of sleep, he squinted up at the door. As if in response Roger appeared in his doorway.

"Where the hell did you put my pills?" he demanded.

Mark shook the sleep from his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Roger glared at him. "My fucking pills. My AZT. Where the hell did you put them?" he snarled.

Mark sat up, still a little confused. "I didn't touch your pills...Why the hell would I?" He answered.

Roger came to the bed, looking down at Mark with such anger that Mark felt like sinking into the mattress. "Don't lie to me. You put them somewhere, you had to of. If you didn't touch them then how come I can't find them?" he snapped.

Mark was about to respond when he suddenly remembered. "You're out. I'm going to pick you some up today. Remember, I told you last night."

If possible, Roger looked even angrier. "You didn't tell me shit." he bit out.

Mark sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. "But I did, Roger."

"When? When did you supposedly tell me?" He was shouting now.

Mark got out of bed, sensing that it was going to get bad. "Last night, before you went to sleep. I told you that you were out and I'd get you more today." He reminded him.

"You fucking did not, and even if you did, how could you let me run out? You're the one who always insists on mothering me, like I'm an invalid...if you're going to force me to be dependent, at least try to be fucking dependable."

Mark couldn't respond, just glaring at the absolute senseless drivel spewing out of Roger's mouth in his anger. At his silence, Roger went on.

"Why didn't you get it yesterday? Its not like you do anything all day." He shouted.

Mark sighed, pulling some clothes out of his drawer. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll get you some today." he muttered, conceding.

Roger rounded on him. "I don't fucking need you to take care of me!"

Mark glared back at him, finally having had enough. "Fine. Go get your own fucking meds!" he snapped, pushing past the musician as he went to the bathroom. Within three minutes he was dressed, ready, and out the door.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"What do you mean you're not going to be here? Where will you be?"

She grinned, popping her gum. "Chi-town, baby! I leave tomorrow. I can't wait, I _love_ Chicago."

Mark smiled. "Thats great...Any particular reason you're going?"

She shrugged. "Not really...It was Baby's idea to go. Baby called me up this morning and asked me if I was down. How could I say no to two weeks in Chicago? Its going to be me, Baby, Andrew, Joey and Canvas. We're going to stay with Joey's sister, and Baby is driving. Its going to be great, just hanging out, investigating the nightlife, being a dorky tourist in China Town and Greek Town, and my little piece of home, the Little Village. You ain't never had good Mexican food until you been to the Little Village...oh and the chinese food! ...I'm going to get so fat." she ended her excited rant with a laugh.

Mark chuckled with her. He was happy for her, it sounded like she was going to have a lot of fun...but he was definitely going to miss seeing her everyday. "So who's going to run the cafe, while you're gone?"

She popped her gum. "Hector is going to cover a couple of my shifts, and Jordan is finally going to get off his lazy ass and work some...for a manager, he doesn't really manage anything."

Mark laughed. "Well, you know, while you're over in Chicago...you could possibly bring me back something. Never actually been there." he said suggestively.

She laughed. "Oh, of course I'll bring you a souvenir, Sweettooth."

LINELINELINE

Two days later, Mark found himself lying on his own couch, leafing through the Village Voice, and trying his best to deal with his boredom. Reye was gone, and Marshall was working. There was an overflow of events this coming week, so he'd already been informed that he wasn't going to be seeing much of his boyfriend for several days. He would have to content himself with his camera and perhaps visiting some of his newer friends for a while. Roger wandered past him without a word from either from them, and shut himself in his room once again.

_Its almost like I'm back at square one...maybe its about time me and Rog finally invest in a TV..._

LINELINELINELINELINE

I know that this chapter was kind of random, and rather short, but like I said, it was just a revised random bit of writing that I probably never actually intended to throw in...until now. Anyways, once I access my zipdrive, I should update again...although I can't be positive, what with work, classes having started on Monday, and an organization that I'm on the exec. board of...its possible that I could get busy for a while. Reviews are loved...and needed in this time of hectic college life... hey, as a matter of fact, lets have a deal: I'll update as soon as I get 10 reviews, like the very next day...if I get five, I'll update as soon as I have time to...if I don't even get five, I'll update during Thanksgiving break. hehehe :P

PS: I don't care which chapter gets the reviews, I know that this one is rather short and probably doesn't have a lot that can be commented on.


	22. Missed Lips and Green Eyes

Hey all! SO, I gave up on the zipdrive thing…it doesn't really matter too much anyways. Only about the last 300 words of this are actually rewritten, the rest is new material. Originally, the very end was actually the beginning, and what is to be next chapter, was the rest of this chapter…if you understood that. But, I wrote the beginning of this while I was bored in my poli sci class, and the rest just came to me after I finally got my typewriter case open (I lost the key, so I had to beat the lock with an iron…). It is my firm belief that my typewriter has inspiration in the very keys, and this chapter is proof of that…it all just came to me, I felt like writing because I hadn't used my typewriter in forever, and this is what came out…

It's a little longer than the last several have been, so I hope you're not too upset about the wait…although, it would've been out a lot sooner if I'd have just gotten the 10 reviews I asked for le sigh…so it may not seem like it, but this chapter is definitely leading up to the core of my story. 1…maybe 2 more, before the ball's finally rolling.

No own RENT. Only own Cookie…mmm, Cookie….aw, damn, now no own Cookie…

Missed Lips and Green Eyes

"It's just ridiculous! If people knew what the precious CIA has done, the crimes they've committed in other countries, they'd call for them to be dissolved. But nobody knows, because everything is GD classified."

"Yeah, that's true, Ty, but people mostly don't know because they don't care to know. Ignorance is bliss, and fear is power. Even if everyone knew, who can tell if they'd actually do anything about it? Yeah, they'd care, but they'd be too afraid or lazy to do a damn thing." Lillia interjected.

"I'd like to have more hope in humankind than that. I think that many people _would_ take a stand…I just don't think it would last long. I agree with you, Tyler, I think the CIA is both powerful and dangerous…and if they can stop a revolution in El Salvador or kill a president, then stopping a movement that intends to shut them down would be too easy." Mark said.

"Exactly! It all comes down to their power. Their power to keep us ignorant and controlled." Said Tyler.

"So what can we even do then?"

Three heads turned to the new voice. "Gina!"

"'Sup guys?" she said as she walked over and plopped down on the couch next to Mark.

"You want a beer?" Tyler offered, starting to get up.

"Thanks." She turned to the filmmaker. "Mmm, you looking good today, Marky. Want to take a tumble while the boyfriend's away?" she leered, sliding her hand up his chest flirtatiously.

Mark laughed, already used to Gina's ways (although nobody ever actually knew when she was joking and when she was serious). "No thanks, G…but I'll ask Marsh if he'd like a threesome."

Her eyes lit up before she sighed. "Oh, you're joking, huh? Damn…" They all laughed.

"Oh, but speaking of Tall, Dark, and Taken, he gave me a note to give you." She reached into her blouse and pulled a folded paper from her bra.

"Um…thanks." He opened it, scanning the contents with a smile.

_Babes, _

_What are you doing Thursday night? The quinceanera I was supposed to shoot got cancelled due to the girl getting chicken pox. Send a note back with Tyler. He has to drop off the money he owes me anyways._

_Marshall_

_PS: We really need a new form of communication…Reye being gone makes me realize just how much we were depending on her. _

Mark thought a moment before asking Lillia for some paper and a pen. Finally, he wrote down,

_Marsh,_

_Thursday is free for me. What did you have in mind? _

_Mark _

_PS: 555-3627_

He folded the paper, and handed it to Tyler. "Marsh says he'll be seeing you soon, so you can play messenger." He explained when Tyler gave him a strange look.

Gina spread herself out like a cat, stretching so half her body was over Mark and another part over Tyler, earning her a dirty look from Lillia. "So, what's going on about the CIA?" she asked, despite the pinch to her leg from Mark and the sudden warning look from Lillia.

Tyler grinned. "Well…let me go back to the beginning, and I'll explain how they've been corrupt since their creation."

Both Mark and Lillia groaned. They liked talking about things…but with Tyler, enough was enough sometimes. Mark idly wondered if anyone would notice if he took a nap…

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark checked his breath and reflection one last time before leaving the loft. He hadn't seen Marshall for a few days now (eight, to be exact) and he was severely missing him. He was so eager to see him, in fact, that he almost forgot to lock the door behind him: a dire mistake that could have had him left both without the meager possessions that they did have and at the mercy of Roger's infamous temper.

As he walked the six blocks to the restaurant, he couldn't help wondering how Reye was doing in Chicago. She had been gone six days now, and he hadn't heard anything from her since she'd left. He made a mental note to ask Marshall about her that night.

Said photographer was waiting for him outside the restaurant, a smile growing over his face as he saw Mark approaching.

"Babes, how you been?" he greeted.

Mark smiled in return, closing the distance between them with a warm kiss. "Good…you ready to eat?"

"Oh yeah, I'm starved." He murmured suggestively, kissing and nibbling Mark's neck.

Mark gasped at the hot lips, teeth and tongue against his skin, lightly leaning into the touch, he chuckled shakily. "Marsh, you are incorrigible."

Marshall slid his hand to cup Mark's cheek, turning his face so he could place one last kiss against his lips. "Si, verdad….Let's go eat."

LINE

Mark took another bite of pizza (deep dish, in honor of Reye) "Mm, so you really haven't heard anything from her?" Mark asked as he chewed.

Marshall shook his head. "Not a peep…but don't worry, she never calls that much when she goes away…she usually gets too caught up in her visits. She'll probably call in a few days…or sooner, I guess, if she runs out of money." He said nonchalantly.

"Okay…that's good, I guess…just make sure you let me know when she does call. Actually, you could just pass along my number."

The subject of conversation drifted around a bit, stopping on politics, new movies, and Marshall's latest jobs, to name a few. After a lot of talking, and all the food had been eaten…and digested as they sat (and annoyed the restaurant workers with their more than lingering presence), they finally left.

"What do you want to do now?" Mark asked as they walked.

Marshall raised the hand he was holding and kissed the knuckles affectionately. "Want? Oh, I want to stay with you, cuddle up on my couch with you in my arms, and kiss you like I never have to breathe again." He whispered, as Mark's face flushed.

Marshall then sighed. "But unfortunately, I can't always get what I want…"

Mark looked up at him with more than just a little disappointed eyes. "No?"

"No, babes. Unfortunately, I have to get up very early tomorrow. I have a baptism to shoot at nine, and so I have to be up by seven…. Spring is such a busy time for me…but I'll start having more free days in a few weeks."

Mark nodded, but still looked slightly disappointed, and Marshall felt guilty for teasing him like he had.

"Wednesday is a good night for me…actually, all of Wednesday is good for me. We can spend the whole day together."

Mark smiled, but quickly faked a pout. "Wednesday? As in, six days away, Wednesday? Well…it'll hgave to do, won't it?"

Marshall paused in his step, pulling Mark into his arms and capturing his mouth in a heated kiss. "We'll just have to make up for lost time then, won't we?" he murmured against warm lips.

"Sounds like a plan….Hey, we're close to my place now, want to finish walking me home?"

Marshall nodded, looking slightly pleasantly surprised. Mark figured that it was probably because he had never let the photographer see exactly where he lived before. They didn't talk too much more for the rest of the walk, but the silence was comfortable.

They reached Mark's building far too soon, in his opinion, and he glanced it up and down almost resentfully. Suddenly, something caught his eye, a movement maybe, and as his searching eyes traveled back up the building, he was distracted by a warm hand on his cheek, pulling his attention back down before his brain could even register what he may have seen.

"So, I'll see you on Wednesday, then?" Marshall asked softly.

"Definitely."

Marshall smiled, sliding his hand to cup the back of Mark's neck as he pulled him in for a kiss that quickly became fervent. They made out for a few heated moments before finally breaking apart, Marshall dropping several short kisses against Mark's panting mouth as they pulled away; Mark freeing his hands from where they had tangled in the photographer's shirt.

"I'll see you later, babes." Marshall whispered before he turned and walked away, Mark watching him go for a moment.

Suddenly, struck with the memory, Mark glanced up at the building, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary, not a shadow nor a soul in sight. _Was probably just a bird or …something._

Shrugging, he headed up to the loft. Opening the door, he found Roger on the couch, plucking a slow Musetta's Waltz.

"Hey. You're up late."

Roger glanced up at him before shooting him a disgusted look and, getting up, he stormed over to his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Mark winced: something about Roger seemed even colder than usual, but he only pondered it for a moment before shrugging it off, choosing instead to think about Wednesday: an eternity of six days away.

LINELINELINELINE

Comments, questions, criticisms, praise, please press that little Review button. Give me 10, I'll update the day after. 5, when I have time. Less, not at all.

Also, I didn't do this consciously, but reading back over this chapter, I think my writing style is a little different… and I think that I wrote Marshall differently than usual…but I'm happy with both… Let me know if you see what I'm talking about.

Lastly, I know that I jump periods of time in this fic, so I want to make it clear that the next chapter takes place THE NEXT DAY.


	23. Good Times

Hey…wow, 7 reviews the day after an update

Hey…wow, 7 reviews the day after an update?? That was…amazing. I feel so loved…and hated, lol. I do apologize for not keeping my promise and updating the day after I got the tenth review, but life has been INSANE (Classes, 2 jobs, and being on the exec. Board of a major campus organization will do that to you).

Now, I understand the concern, for myself too it feels like this story is taking forever to get to the damn point. I don't know what's wrong with my muse, but I do seem pretty set on taking the scenic route, huh? I do apologize…and I also promise that 1. The core of the story is coming, and soon and 2. When it gets there, you will hopefully not be disappointed in the wait.

Mainly, the reason I've been writing so many seemingly pointless chapters is because I want the relationship between Mark and Marshall and Reye to be very strong, and the relationship between Mark and Roger to be fairly deteriorated. I feel that if these things aren't done, then what happens in the future chapters just won't seem realistic, justified, or plausible (kinda synonyms there but kinda not).

I have this chapter, one more chapter that is mostly already written (in chunks in various notebooks and off my typewriter, so I still have to type it all up cohesively) and then a huge chapter (huge in terms of importance…although it should be kinda long) that is mostly written…and has been waiting for me to use it for months now. Once that chapter is up, everything will make a bit more sense and the ball will effectively be rolling… so please, stay with me?

PS: You guys owe me, because I completely rewrote this entire chapter…decided not to wait till I finally found the right damn zip disk.

I don't own RENT…you can tell, RENT was straightforward :P

Good Times

Mark lay contentedly in Marshall's arms. "I love you." He said, expressing the happiness that he felt to his core, and not even worrying about the fact that this was the first time he had ever said this to the photographer.

There was silence from his boyfriend, before "I hate you."

Startled, Mark turned in the arms that still held him, and looked in sudden horror at…Roger.

Only, it wasn't Roger…not like he had ever seen him anyways. He was white as chalk and the thinnest he had ever been. "Roger?" Mark asked shakily, pulling from his grasp slightly, but finding himself not able to pull away entirely.

"I hate you." Roger said again, his voice flat and cold.

"Roger…Roger, are you okay? You…you don't look okay…"

Roger just stared blankly at him as lesions started forming over his skin: his chest, face, arms and neck becoming splotched.

"Roger? Answer me, please!" Mark's voice was getting desperate now as Roger seemed to get worse in front of his eyes. The musician just continued to state at him, oblivious to his deteriorating body, as he grew skinnier and skinnier, his hair beginning to fall out in chunks.

"I hate you, Mark. I hope you die."

Mark was now terrified of the skin and bones creature in front of him, trying desperately to free himself from the skeletal fingers that clutched at his arms with impossible strength, preventing escape.

Roger shriveled even more, so that he was just colored bone and burning green eyes. "I hate you, Mark. I want you to die…"

Mark finally ripped from the grip, breaking the bones at the wrists, and scuttled back as the body started disintegrating.

"Die…like me." The voice said as Roger's once body exploded into ash, and Mark was screaming…

Mark sat up with a gasp, fighting the sheets that were wrapped around his legs, his struggling suddenly sending him off the side of the bed and onto the floor with an 'oomph'.

He breathed for a few moments, trying to calm down from the images of the dream. He jumped, startled, at a knock at his door…and then stared at it in confusion for a moment before answering.

"Yeah?"

The door opened slightly and Roger's face appeared in the crack. "You okay? I heard a crash or something."

Mark shook off his shock, "Um…yeah. I just fell off the bed."

Roger laughed. "Klutz." He said before his head disappeared.

Mark stared at the closed door for a moment. _That was…odd. _Shrugging it off, he got up to attend to some hygienic needs.

He was stopped on his route to the bathroom, however, by the sight awaiting him in the kitchen. Roger was sitting on the table, a bowl of cereal in his lap. That in itself was not unusual. What had stopped him, and brought him wandering over, was the second bowl of cereal, innocently sitting on the counter in his old spot next to Roger.

They never ate together anymore. That roommate ritual had died months before, from both ends. Yet, there was that bowl of cereal, just sitting there. Like it was supposed to be there. Like there was never a time that it hadn't been there. Metaphorically.

He must have been staring at it for a good moment because suddenly he was struck from his thoughts by an irritated snap:

"Well are you going eat it or stare at it all day?"

His gaze shot to Roger just in time to see what could have been a wince on the musician's face.

"Its going to get soggy." He added softly, as if apologizing for his earlier roughness.

Mark nodded distractedly, taking the bowl in his hands and hopping up on the table in his old spot. _Wow, this feels…awkward…But good…like before. _

They ate in pure silence, the only sound the crunch and occasional slurp of cereal meeting mouth. Roger finished first, but strangely did not get up like expected. Instead, he continued to sit there in silence, as Mark ate.

At a length, he spoke. "So, you going out today?"

Mark looked at him for a moment before recovering quickly. "Um…yeah, probably." He shrugged.

Roger nodded absently. Hopping down, he put his bowl in the sink with a clatter and went to his room.

Mark stared after him for a moment, realizing that this was the first time in a long time that Roger had not walked away from him in anger…he'd just…walked away. _He's being unusually nice this morning…should probably milk it for all its worth. _

"You take your AZT?" he called at the open room.

Roger's head stuck out after a moment. "You're not my mother, Cohen." He barked. There was a moment of tenseness before he suddenly stalked out, grabbed the pill bottle from the coffee table beside the couch, and popped a pill. "Happy, asshole?" he snapped before going back to his room and slamming the door.

Mark almost laughed at the quickness things had gone back to normal. _Well, can't expect miracles_.

Finishing his cereal, he decided that he would go out after all. Marsh and Reye were out of the picture for the day, and he hadn't made any plans with his other new friends…but there was always filming. He grabbed his camera from its almost dusty place in the corner, and frowned over the fact that it had been several days since he'd touched it.

Slinging it over his shoulder and grabbing his bike, he left Roger to his brooding.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark walked into the loft, hauling his bike to the wall and putting his camera back to the corner with a sigh. He was skinny, but damn if his legs weren't strong after all these years living in the loft.

Roger was sitting on the couch, holding his guitar but not playing. He looked over and acknowledged him with a nod.

Mark went over to the kitchen and pulled a piece of almost, but not quite, stale bread from the cupboard, leaning against the metal table as he absently munched on it. He was rather surprised when Roger came over next to him, hopping up on the table mere inches from where Mark leaned.

"Where you been all day?" he asked after a moment, startling Mark slightly, a fact that he tried to hide.

"Eh, no where special. The café's closed, so I just filmed around downtown."

Roger gave him a weird look. "The Life is closed?"

Mark returned his look, confused. "No, of course not…" he trailed off, realizing his mistake.

_He doesn't know about the café…or Reye…Marshall…anything…_ He stared at Roger for a moment, considering just how much about his new life that Roger had absolutely no knowledge of. _Well, he wouldn't, would he? This is the first time we've actually talked in…a long time. _He stayed silent for a few moments, thinking about whether he should explain things, and if so, how much?

"I don't go to the Life…I go to a little coffee shop a couple blocks away, it's closed today because the barista's out of town." He explained slowly.

Roger nodded. "Coffee shop? Wait, you have money?" He said, but not unkindly.

Mark grinned slightly. "Well, I don't actually need money-"

He was cut off by Roger, "Why wouldn't you…oh wait, you're fucking the barista!" he finished with a laugh.

Mark grimaced. "Ew! No, hell no! Reye's like seventeen! And just…no! She's a kid…and like a sister-type."

Roger looked unimpressed. "So you're fucking the manager? Owner? …Her mother?!"

Mark laughed. "No, no, and definitely no! …I'm not fucking anyone." _Yet…Now is not the time, brain, shut up!_ "Me and Reye are friends, I don't get anything for free, I have a tab." He explained.

Roger laughed. "Is this Reye aware that you'll never pay this tab?"

Mark readied his angry reply before stopping himself as he realized Roger was joking with him. "Fuck off." He responded with a grin. Reaching out, Roger slugged him on the arm playfully.

They were silent for a moment before Roger said, "Hey, you want to go with me to my set tonight?"

Mark looked at him in surprise, unable to respond in his shock and confusion.

Roger sneered at him. "Hey, if you don't want to, just say so! I just wanted you to go so you could film, haven't had any new footage since the new members…so whatever, I can just get some kid to do it, he'll probably do a be-"

Mark quickly cut off his angry rant. "No! …I mean, yeah, I want to."

Roger's anger died on the spot, and he smiled slightly. "Oh…okay, cool."

There was a moment of silence before, "Well…its at 10, so be ready…I gotta go take a shower."

Mark stared at him while he went. _What the hell is going on? _

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

A few hours later, Mark found himself leaning against a table in CBGBs, a half finished beer in one hand and his camera in the other. He was actually enjoying himself quite a bit. He hadn't been to one of Roger's shows in forever, and the new drummer was actually very good. The new second-guitar on the other hand, needed work on his timing; he was off cue several times. Roger was trying hard to make up for it, though.

Mark carefully balanced his camera far enough in front of his face to take a swig of beer. It was cheap shit, but after three now, the taste was drowned out by his pleasant buzz.

Mark taped through most of Roger's set, drinking one more beer in the process. When it was over, Roger wandered over to him.

"Hey, I'll be ready to go in a few. Have to help take down." He said before starting to walk away.

Mark nodded, and as he turned towards the bar, he suddenly saw a familiar face: Baby, or Jerrod rather, to everyone but Reye. They'd talked a few times at parties. Jerrod waved him over to his table, and Mark smiled, walking towards them when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Turning, he found Roger smiling at him. "You know what? Fuck it, they can handle the clean up. They usually stick me with most of it anyways…have I mentioned that we really need roadies?"

Mark chuckled, glancing over at Jerrod long enough to give a half wave and a mouthing of "Roommate!" before getting led out of the bar.

Roger and him actually talked the whole way home…all about Roger and his set, but Mark didn't mind.

Conversation was conversation.

LINELINELINELINELINE

So, that's it…I wanted it to be longer…but I opted to just get it out faster. Same rules about reviews apply…and I'll stick to it this time, I'm a little less busy.


	24. No Miracles

I really wanted this chapter to be longer…actually, it was supposed to be two chapters, but I randomly decided to mix them into one, and therefore not extend too much on all of the ideas…mainly because I, as well, am tired of chapters that seem to go no where. Rest assured that the next chapter is the beginning of the rise of the story.

Also, a message brought my attention to what my deals with reviews probably looks like. I just want to clear something up, I do not "hold updates ransom". I have never actually had a chapter done, and refused to upload it because I didn't get the 5-10 reviews. To be perfectly honest, I don't have much time for writing, so if I didn't make the 10 review rule, the last 2-3 updates still would not have happened. I would have put writing this off. Rather than holding my chapter ransom, I use the reviews as inspiration to force myself to sit down and write. The ten reviews is more for me than you, cause once I see that 10th, I know I have to actually take time out to whip out a new chapter. Hope ya'll understand…and I'll lower the rule now.

Just to clarify. :D

No own RENT

No Miracles

The Twilight Zone did exist. It had to. If it didn't exist, why would Mark be sitting at a table in the Life with Roger, Maureen and Joanne? All three of them were eating and talking and laughing. _Like old times_.

Why else would the harsh feelings of almost a year, the fights, the cruel silences, the insults, be almost washed away as Roger turned to Mark and smiled at him. How else would Roger actually be being nice, not only to him, but to Maureen as well?

Two days ago, he was filming at his gig, strange but not groundbreaking…and if he were living in reality, Roger would already be back to being an asshole. Instead, he was stealing Mark's fries when he wasn't looking, and grinning like a devil when he got caught.

Mark laughed heartily, looking at his…friends in actual happiness.

Oh yes, the Twilight Zone indeed existed…and Mark Cohen was currently in it.

LINELINELINELINE

Two more days had passed, and Roger was still being…different.

Things weren't back to normal…that couldn't happen. What Mark thought of as normal was gone, hadn't been around in months. Too much time and too many things had gone by for that 'normal' to ever return. But, things were good…the best they'd been in a very long time, and that was enough for Mark

They still fought a few times, and Roger still had a short temper, but it was less now, and the chill in his temperament wasn't there as often. There were still moments when he didn't seem to want to talk to filmmaker, but now there were also moments where he sought out his company…more of those than the former, actually. Best of all, the general companionship of being roommate was back…for the most part. Mark really wasn't sure what had changed, but he knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mark was sitting on the couch, pondering all of this when Roger wandered by and went into the kitchen. He watched him search through the fridge and cupboards for a few moments before the guitarist suddenly turned to face him, frustrated.

"Damn it, Mark! There is nothing to eat in this fuckin' house." He all but yelled.

Mark regarded him coolly and cautiously "Okay…sorry?"

Roger stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Whatever…get dressed and we'll go to the Life…my treat."

Mark grinned. "Sure."

He got up, heading to his room, Rogers voice following him. "But don't think you're not paying me back once your lazy ass gets a job, Cohen."

_No miracles here. _Mark thought, but he was still smiling to himself.

They hung out at the Life for the afternoon, talking novelties. They never did talk too seriously now…for instance, Mark never did tell him anymore about Reye than he already had, and the rest of his new life wasn't mentioned at all. He wasn't sure exactly why, he just had this feeling that it would have been too awkward.

It seemed that nothing too much had changed in Roger's life, aside from his band adjusting to the two new members, and the fact that they were getting a lot more gigs as they continued to make their comeback.

After they got home, Roger secluded himself with his guitar and lyric book, and Mark did likewise with the newspaper and a cup of weak coffee. They didn't talk much for the rest of the night, but this silence Mark could stand.

LINELINE

Mark smiled into his breakfast of ramen. He couldn't help it. It was finally Wednesday, and he was finally going to see Marshall again. Although, to be perfectly honest, he wasn't on edge to see his boyfriend like he had been that Friday before. He logically attributed it to him not wanting the escape quite a badly as he had before. He was still out in the living room, though, near the phone as he waited for the photographer to call.

Suddenly, Roger came out of his room and came and sat down next to Mark. "I have to go to the pawn shop in a little while. Thought afterward I'd go grab some Chinese. You in?" he asked.

Mark was about to answer, to tell him that he was busy, when the phone rang. He jumped, and stared at it for a moment before coming to his senses and jerking the phone up and to his ear before it could go to the machine. Roger gave him a strange look, probably not understanding why Mark wasn't screening.

"Hello?" Mark asked anxiously.

"Hey Babes!" Marshall's voice rang at him.

Mark smiled, forgetting himself. "Hey. Haven't heard your voice in a while, how've you been?"

Roger continued to look at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and going to the window, picking up his guitar along the way. Mark watched him for a moment, feeling torn.

"You want to meet up in about an hour? I just have to take a shower…I cannot wait to see you, Babes."

Mark winced, taking a breath as he stayed silent for a moment. He chewed his lip in uncertainty as his eyes drifted over to Roger by the window, not facing him as he strummed absently.

From outside his thoughts, he heard Marshall. "Mark? …Hey, you still there, Babes?"

Mark quickly turned his attention back to the phone. "Uh…yeah. Sorry about that…um, hey I'm real sorry…but something really important came up and…I can't hang out today…not until later tonight." He said, his guilt showing through his voice.

There was a moment of silence from the phone before, "Oh…okay…is everything okay?" Mark winced again at the sincere sound of concern in his boyfriend's voice.

"Yeah…no, everything's fine. I just…have somewhere I have to be…I'm sorry….but I'll see you tonight? Around nine maybe?" he reasoned with himself, telling himself that he could do this…spend time with both of them…and that there was nothing wrong with a compromise.

"Yeah Babes, that sounds good. I'll meet you at your place, then?" he could hear the reformed smile in Marsh's voice, and he couldn't help smiling himself.

"Yeah…but don't worry about coming up; it's a long climb. I'll meet you at the door."

"Alright, can't wait. Bye."

"Bye."

Mark smiled to himself as he hung up the phone. He felt guilty about blowing Marshall off, but…he had missed Roger, and he wasn't about to let opportunities to spend time with his former best friend just pass him by. He was sure if he could explain it to Marshall, he'd understand…but at the moment, he didn't see much of a down side. He was going to see Marshall tonight… and he was going to hang out with Roger now. What could be better?

He walked over to the window, sitting across from Roger who looked over at him.

"You got plans?" he asked, sounding completely indifferent.

Mark smiled at him. "Nah…but you said something about Chinese food and cheap pawn goods, right?"

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark and Roger walked back to the loft, leftover Chinese food and Roger's "new" guitar strap in hand. They talked easily, Roger mocking the pawn shop owner's German accent, and Mark laughing and chastising him in the same breath.

Going up into the loft, they stored the food in the barely cool ice box that was probably so outdated it was leaking chemicals, and sat on the couch. Roger played a little of a new song he was trying to write, and Mark gave what critiques he could.

They sat and talked, mostly bullshitting, but it was a good time. Mark didn't notice the time getting away from him until he randomly glanced down at his watch and saw it was 7:45. Startled, he started to get up to start getting ready, when Roger caught his attention.

"Hey, I want to do something tonight…want to call up Maureen and Joanne and head out to the clubs? I think my friend's band is playing tonight."

Mark took a breath, worrying his lip before making up his mind. "Sorry, Rog…I can't. I'm meeting…a friend."

Roger nodded, looking suddenly disinterested. "Alright, whatever."

Mark swallowed back his guilt, and got up. He showered, dressed, and was out the door five till, all without another single glance from his roommate.

LINELINE

His guilt somehow melted away upon seeing Marshall, casually leaning against his building with a sexy smile, a warm feeling building up instead upon the sight of the single red rose in his hand.

"Babes." He greeted, kicking himself off the wall, and then sliding gracefully to his knees as he held up the rose as if he were a chivalric knight.

Mark laughed, taking the rose in his hand and pulling Marshall up and against him with the other, their lips meeting for only a short, warm kiss. "Thank you." Mark mumbled against the photographer's mouth.

"Don't mention it." Marshall responded as he pulled away slightly, interlacing their fingers as they started to walk.

"So guess what? Reye's coming home tomorrow! She'll be here in the morning." Marshall grinned.

Mark's face mirrored his. "That's great! I miss that girl…she never did call me… and wasn't she supposed to be here a few days ago?"

Marshall shrugged. "She claims she got 'distracted'" he used air quotes. "Anyways, I can't wait…I even called my two clients for tomorrow and said I have chicken pox, so I can't shoot. …it'll cost me some serious dough, but I do miss mi hermanita. …We're having a party at Tank's to celebrate them all coming back alive…a tradition every time they come back from one of their random adventures. You should come."

Mark smiled. "I'll be there, definitely."

Marshall kissed him swiftly before continuing their walk, making Mark smile broader.

"So where we off to?" Mark asked, smelling the rose briefly before depositing it safely in his coat pocket.

"I'm thinking the movies. Cliché, I know…but there's a good looking horror film that just came out…doesn't seem as obnoxious as most new horror."

Mark smiled. He knew fully well that Marshall wasn't a huge fan of horror; comedy and romance-comedy (AKA chick flicks) were more his area, but also that the photographer knew that _he_ was a fan of horror…at least when it was done well.

"Sounds like a plan."

LINELINELINELINE

Don't know when the next update will be…its already completely written…just can't remember where… If you inspire me with enough reviews, I'll just be kind and re-write it…although, I bet you anything the original is probably better written than what I could rewrite…I _**did**_ write the original over a year ago… Anyways, reviews loved!!

OH and NOTE: The next chapter takes place THE VERY NEXT DAY!!


	25. Tea, Fights, and Last Resorts

Sorry about the wait...a little less than a month isn't too bad, though? ...Also, sorry that this chapter is quite long...I just couldn't get myself to cut it off anywhere. I had to keep going until it felt finished...and that took a while. Anyways...its a BIG chapter...please let me know what you think...after this, things kinda progress a little faster in the story, plotwise. Keep me informed of your opinions of how things are going! Feedback is very much of the good.

I do not own RENT...nor much of anything, actually...kinda the life of a college student...

Tea, Fights, and Last Resorts

Mark yawned. He hadn't come home from his date with Marshall until late. After the movie, they had gone to a 24 hour diner for too-sweet pastries and horrible coffee. Marshall had wanted him to come over afterwards, but like usual, he had declined. He'd spent a lot of time at their apartment, sure, and had even taken naps there, his head in Marshall's lap or laying on his chest as they split the couch, but he was wary to go at night…at the end of the night, actually. He wasn't sure what Marshall would expect and he didn't want to be a tease when he knew that he just wasn't ready for some things yet.

Even though he had gotten home before three, he hadn't gotten to sleep until almost five. But he was determined to get an early start on his day, so waking up at nine was necessary. He planned to go the café early, and spend a few hours with Reye before going out to the market and getting some much needed groceries. After that, he wanted to make him and Roger some dinner before going out to that party at night…if he still felt up to it. He told Marshall that he would, but it really depended on whether he was still awake by then.

He got ready, and was surprised that Roger still wasn't up. He decided to just leave him be, though, and so bypassed the closed door. He _had_ wanted to let his roommate know that he was dipping into the Floor Stash in order to buy groceries, but he figured he could just let him know when he got home. Sliding the coffee table away, he used a flat end screwdriver to pry open the loose floorboard there. Inside sat a mason jar. Pulling it up, he inspected the contents: it added up to just over twenty-four dollars, most of it in coins.

Mark frowned, thinking that Roger should have had more money than that from bartending last week, before shrugging it off. Roger probably was keeping most of it on him. The Floor Stash _was_ only meant for money that was forfeit to the good of the loft.

He pocketed the twenty-four dollars. It wasn't a lot of money, but Mark didn't have much left in his personal stash, and he tried to keep that for AZT and emergencies. He decided that he would need to see if Collins couldn't 'program' a new ATM for them the next time he came to visit… or he supposed, he could try to get a job, something in the way of a nice, respectable minimum wage career that left his soul clean and hands dirty. Until then, he could make money stretch. He had plenty of practice in that field.

He replaced the floorboard and slid the coffee table back in place. Opting to leave both his camera and bike, he set out to the café on foot.

LINE

He grinned as he opened the second door of he café, his eyes immediately focusing on Reye, sitting on the table, a bag of caramel corn in her lap. She turned to face him and a matching grin quickly crossed her face.

"Sweettooth!"

"Hey Miss Reye." He greeted, going over only to be driven back a step by the force of Reye's body colliding with his and her arms wrapping around him tightly. "I missed you too, Reye." He laughed.

She pulled back, laughter in her eyes. Mark took the moment to inspect her hair better. The layer of faded red-brown was gone, replaced by a solid black that better matched her roots, and she now had thick layers and chunks of two different shades of purple.

"Nice hair…its punky."

She grinned, fingering a strand of plum. "Thanks…I needed a change."

Going over to the counter, she hopped up onto the surface and he took his usual place in the stool by her.

"So…" he began, steadying himself for a very long and enthusiastic conversation, "how was Chicago?"

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

"So...he finally came to his senses; its about damn time."

Mark smiled. "Yeah, I suppose it is. I really don't lnow what's changed...but I think things are going to change for the better...keep getting better...It'll never go back to normal...but that's fine. I don't need normal...just Roger back to being my friend is good enough for me."

Reye grinned. "Well, I'm happy for you...and if things continue to get better, maybe we can _all_ hang out together? ...You can introduce me to him...and introduce him to Marshall, eventually?"

Cold chills went up Mark's spine at these words. He was still anxious of actually telling Roger everything...of letting him meet...his boyfriend...and actually, just letting him meet Reye was iffy. She was an easy enough person to like but she was still, after all, a heroin user. But of course, he couldn't tell Reye that....

He faked a smile. "Yeah...hopefully he and will be getting along well enough for that soon...it would be nice for my two worlds to collide." he said, only partially lying.

She grinned, popping her gum. "Good."

They talked for a while more, until Mark decided that it was getting late and he needed to get to the grocery store.

"Are you going to the party?" Reye asked.

Mark shrugged a little guiltily. "Well...I know I told your brother that I would...but I'm just so beat, I don't think that after everything I'll still be awake enough... Sorry."

She shrugged offhandedly. "Its fine, Sweettooth. I understand. We can always party this weekend."

He smiled and up the souvenir she had gotten him, he left. He still couldn't believe that she had bought him a handpainted tea set from China Town. It was a beautiful set, and so he carried it very carefully down to the market, vowing to drop the eggs before he'd think of dropping this box.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

"What did you do with it?" Roger screamed.

Mark stared at him blankly. From the moment he had walked in, Roger had started yelling at him, accusing him of taking something.

"Do not play dumb with me, Mark. The money, from the floorstash, where is it?" he yelled.

Then it clicked in Mark's head. "Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I took the floormoney and bought groceries. We were completely out of food." he explained, hoping that staying calm would calm down Roger. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

"You liar. How could you take my money? You spent it all on yourself, didn't you? You're always wasting our money, that's all you do, spend, spend, spend, spend, spend!" he shouted.

Mark sighed. "Look, you can check if you want, I've got the food and receipt right here. It cost me exactly $23.73. Here's the change." He put the money on the counter.

Roger looked unimpressed. "There's only about eighty cents here."

Mark nodded, not understanding the problem.

"I put more than twenty-four dollars in the floor two days ago, it was more like thirty and some change." he accused.

"There was only twenty-four dollars there this morning." Mark answered calmly.

"You are fucking lying! Where the hell is the rest of the money?" Roger demanded, advancing so he was in Mark's face.

"I told you, there wasn't any more." Mark tried to stay calm and took a few steps back, things got too far out of hand when he lost his temper too.

"So where did it go, Mark? It had to have gone somewhere."

Mark gritted his teeth. "I really don't know. Why don't you keep track of your things?" he snapped.

"That's another thing, who the hell gave you the right to spend _my_ money?" Roger shouted.

Mark finally got mad. He shoved the grocery bags on the counter and rounded to face Roger. "You fucking know very well that any money in the floor is the loft money. If you don't want your money going to groceries or rent, don't put it in the fucking floor-stash." he shouted.

Roger stepped forward, getting right in Mark's face. "If I don't put my money there, we wouldn't have anything. Its not like you ever fucking contribute." he snarled before shoving past Mark and going to the groceries.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Mark demanded, following him to the counter.

Roger laughed harshly. "What the hell do you think I mean? You haven't put any money in the floor for weeks, months even. You don't have a job, you haven't made a decent film since "Today 4 U", you don't contribute anything." At this point Roger looked up, catching Mark's eyes with his cold ones. "You know what, Mark, you are fucking useless. I don't even know why the hell I put up with you. No, let me correct myself, you're not useless, you're worse; you're fucking worthless."

Mark just stared at him. He could hear every breathe from his lungs, feel every heartbeat. A knot formed in the center of his throat, choking him. He wasn't used to this. Roger yelled, screamed, shouted, shoved him, and that stuff he didn't like but he could deal with, it was just anger... His voice hadn't even been angry, it had just been hateful. This... this was cold, calm. This fucking hurt. Roger meant this. He wasn't saying it out of anger, he really meant it. …And he was right. What the hell use was he?

Roger looked back down, getting the groceries out of the bag. "Get out of my face, you're beginning to disgust me." he said dismissively to Mark.

Mark couldn't find anything to say. He didn't understand. This wasn't right...things had been going so well...he'd been so sure that things'd changed...that Roger was finally becoming his old self again...but now...He breathed heavily, he couldn't even find the thoughts...just the pain.

After a moment, he just walked out of the loft, completely numb. He walked around for a while, having no direction in mind. He didn't even feel like going to the cafe, because he knew that Reye would make him tell her all about it, and he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted it all to go away. More than anything, he wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted anything but this.

Eventually, having no other place to go, he did end up at the cafe. It was very late somehow, and he wondered for how long he had been walking. Reye was talking to a teenage boy, who was behind the counter. Mark assumed that this was Hector, the kid who worked the night shift. He went in and Reye grinned at him, saying bye to Hector and coming over.

"Heya Sweettooth. Decide to go to the party after all?" Mark looked at her blankly for a second before remembering that Marshall had invited him to a party that night for Reye and her traveling buddies. He'd decided not to go because he'd wanted to sleep...but at the moment, sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Yeah, I'll go." he answered.

Reye's grin grew. "Great. Marshall wouldn't have had any fun if you weren't there." she winked at him before looping her arm around his and pulling him outside and down the sidewalk.

"I am sensing that today hasn't been a great day." she commented as they walked.

Mark laughed shakily. "That could be the understatement of the fucking century." he muttered.

"Wow, that bad, huh? Want to tell me about it?" she asked.

He sighed. "No, not really."

She nodded. "Okay. The party'll cheer you up." she said.

Mark stared at her, surprised. This was the first time she had just let him drop it, the first time she hadn't made him talk about it. Maybe she could hear it in his voice that he really wasn't in the mood to talk this time. They walked the rest of the way to Tank's place in silence.

Reye was greeted enthusiastically, as usual, upon their arrival. Several people greeted him as well. It wasn't always all the same people at these parties, but the bulk was generally the same crowd. He was finally getting to a point where he knew at least half of them.

But for once, he was wishing that he didn't know any of them. He was suddenly regretting coming. He didn't feel comfortable with all these people, all talking, laughing, dancing, having a good time... he didn't fit. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and lay there until the world ended. More than anything, he felt a strong urge to get out...to escape, but there was no where he could go where he could escape from his own mind.

Suddenly, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He turned to see Marshall smiling at him. "Hey Babes." he greeted.

Mark smiled slightly, feeling his stomach warm a bit. "Hi Marshall." he answered quietly.

Marshall slid his other arm around Mark's waist and leaning in, kissed him softly and shortly. Mark opened his eyes to see Marshall's warm brown ones starring at him, concerned. "Bad day?" he asked softly.

Mark nodded. Marshall leaned in and kissed him again, longer, but just as gentle. "Any way I can cheer you up?" he asked softly.

Mark shook his head, looking up at Marshall. "I just don't want to think about it." he answered.

Marshall nodded in understanding. "Let's go get a drink."

They went into the kitchen and Marshall snagged a couple beers out of the sink, handing one to Mark. Mark smiled his thank you and drank half of it down in one go.

Right about then, Reye reappeared. She grabbed herself a beer. "Heya boys. Having fun yet?" she asked, taking a drink.

"Would be better if Tank played any decent music." Marshall answered, wrinkling his nose as another loud Paula Abdul song played in the background.

"He's got some kind of obsession with her, sorry. I'll go see if he can play anything else, right after I go get myself a good time." Reye responded before walking out of kitchen and down a hallway to the backroom.

Most of the time, Mark would pretend that he didn't notice her go back there, because he knew what she was going to do, but this time was different and, after a moment, Mark put down his beer and followed her. "I'll be back in a sec." he said to Marshall as he left.

He went down the hallway just in time to see Reye disappear in to a room at the very end. After a second he went in. There were about half a dozen people sitting around in various circles.

Reye sat on the couch, pulling out a spoon, lighter, and syringe from her coat pockets. Mark went and stood next to her, and she didn't seem to mind him watching her prepare her hit. As she melted down the powder and began loading the syringe, Mark stared in a newfound fascination.

_Mimi, April, Roger, Marshall, Reye, Tyler...all good people...all users at some point...there has to be something to it. ...There has to be something that makes it...worth it. ...Is it enough? Is it enough to forget?...Does it make you stop feeling?....Stop feelings? ...Roger used to tell me that it made everything good...made everything nice...does that mean that it takes away the things that aren't nice?...Can it stop the pain?_

As she pulled the now empty syringe out of her arm, Mark found himself reaching for it. Startled, Reye snatched it away from him.

"I want to try it." he explained shortly.

She stared at him. "You know, neither I nor anyone here expects you to or anything, we respect that you don't use." she said slowly.

"I know, you're not the reason. I just want to try it." he answered, reaching for the syringe again.

Yet again she pulled it from him. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I want to try it." he said, his voice strong, much stronger than he felt. He had no idea what he was doing...he just felt like he had to. _If it stops the pain, it'll be worth it...if not, one hit is no harm done...Just try it, Cohen...what else have you got to lose? _

"Okay...but not this. You have to start slow or you'll get sick." she explained, putting the syringe away.

Grabbing his hand, she led him over to a group, and Mark recognizes Lillia and Tyler in the circle. They were sitting around, passing around a lighter and a piece of tin foil with heroin on it, breathing in the smoke through a straw as it was heated.

"Hey, can Mark join?" Reye asked. The people in the group smiled at him, and Lillia patted the spot next to her.

"Of course. I'm leading, and you're a nice enough guy...is it your first time?" a guy that Mark recognized but didn't know asked.

Mark nodded as he sat.

Reye sat next to him. Leaning into him, she whispered in his ear, "Are you sure you're not going to regret this in the morning?"

He faked a smile. "I'm positive." It was a lie, but Reye didn't seem to notice.

She grinned. "You're going to love it, I swear, Sweettooth. It just makes everything...nice." she shut her eyes and Mark recognized the signs of the drug hitting her system.

_Everything nice...sounds good. _

The supplies were handed to Mark, and he stared at them, unsure of what to do. Reye smiled, and took the foil and the lighter. She grabbed a straw from a pile and handed it to Mark. "I'll drive. You just take that straw and suck it up when I put the lighter under it...oh, and just so you know, its going to taste bad...real bad, like dirt....but its worth it, girl scout promise." She held the foil near his face, flicking the lighter. "Suck in, and hold Sweettooth." she whispered. Mark took a breath, his heart was hammering, but he watched as she slid the lighter below the foil, and putting the straw in his mouth, he slowly sucked in, following the flame slowly across the foil as she went across. It _did_ taste awful, but he kept sucking until she flicked the lighter off. He held the smoke in his mouth and throat before he couldn't stand it and let it out in a big exhale.

Reye giggled at him. She examined the foil, deeming it still good enough to pass on, not doing any herself.

Mark frowned...he didn't feel anything. He went to stand when Reye grabbed his sleeve. "Not yet...you need at least one more hit."

Deciding not to argue, Mark stayed sitting and watched as a new batch was made and started going around the circle. When it came to his turn, Reye did it for him again, but he didn't hesitate this time.

He sat there for a moment and shut his eyes as a warm, pleasant feeling started to travel through his body. It grew stronger as he sat until he just felt good. Everything bad in his mind, every ounce of pain and hurt, drifted away until he just felt...nice. He didn't immediately notice Reye pulling at him, but when he did he got up, following her to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway and watched her disappear to the living room to talk to Tank.

He took a deep breath. His head felt light, but his arms felt like they were heavier than usual. He was also moving slowly, but he liked it. He felt good...pleasant and calm and peaceful. Shaking himself a little, he looked around for his boyfriend.

He found Marshall working on his second beer and talking to a skinny blonde kid, who, in Mark's opinion, was standing a bit too close to Marshall. Mark felt a tinge of jealousy touch him. Marshall looked over and must have noticed because he beckoned Mark over and as soon as Mark reached his side he slid an arm around his waist.

"Kev, this is Mark. Mark, this is my friend, Kevin." he introduced them.

Mark nodded his greeting, feeling himself shift closer to Marshall. Marshall and Kevin talked for few more minutes, but Mark stopped paying attention as he felt what he had to assume was the drug kicking in even more. In an instant, he could feel his blood rushing through his veins, his heart hammering. A strange, amazing, awesome feeling built up in his body. A thick warmth spread over him, as if he's inwardly melting. All in all, it was a pleasant feeling, to say the least.

He looked up and realized that Kevin was gone and Marshall was looking at him with a grin.

"Jealous." he taunted.

"Am not...was not...waznot..." Mark laughed softly.

Marshall paused, leaning in and examining Mark. "You're high." he noted quietly.

Mark grinned at him. "Mhm. Not quite as a kite, but...quite kite... quitekite... damn it, I hate it when I rhyme." With that Mark laughed again. He wasn't giddy or silly like when he smoked weed, but there seemed no reason _not_ to laugh, everything was just so good.

Marshall chuckled. "You are definitely cute when you're high, Babes. Speaking of that, I'm guessing this means the ban on me using is void, so I think I'm going to go cutify myself..." he said before suddenly pausing. "Babes, is this the only hard drug you've done?" Concern cutting his voice as he studied Mark, who nodded.

"Yep...Well, I've done weed before...but this stuff is so much better. Its so...warm. Marsh, I am so...warm. Why didn't anyone ever tell me? Its like an eraser...a soft, warm eraser..." he smiled and sighed.

Marshall shook his head with a chuckle. "Okay Babes, in that case, I better find you a babysitter so I can go get myself some of this warmth."

With that Marshall led Mark out into the living room and found Reye.

"How much did you give him?" he asked her.

She bit her lip, trying to remember. "He smoked it...only two hits, but it was Garrett's stash so it was good...Like, two miligrams, maybe, four at most. Not more than that."

Marshall stared at her in surprise. "Isn't that a little heavy for his first time?"

She laughed. "Don't think so. He was serious. Marsh, you should have seen him, he wanted to shoot up. Besides you know it kicks in slow when you chase...he'll be fine."

Then her eyes get wide as she remembers. "Ha, that reminds me! He sucked it. Ha, Mark sucked it up. I gave my stick to Mark to suck!" with that her speech dissolvd into a fit of giggles.

Marshall rolled his eyes. "Mhm...okay, watch him, okay? I'm going to go to the backroom.... Do you hear me, you better watch him." his tone got hard.

She laughed, wrapping an arm around Mark and tugging him against her. "Okay, I won't let him out of my sight. Girl Scout Promise." she giggled.

Marshall stared at her reprovingly. "You better not, I don't want him to remember his first time as falling down stairs or kissing someone he never met."

Reye agreed, and Mark watched Marshall walk off towards the back hallway.

_What stairs is he talking about?_ he wondered thickly.

Reye still had her arms around him as she talked to someone. Mark stared down at his own arms, which were hanging by his side. He tried to lift them, to wrap them around Reye, but they felt so heavy, like weights were tied to the ends of his wrists. His legs felt heavy, too.

He tried to figure out why and realized that he had no idea. Then he tried to remember why he had gotten high in the first place...something to do with Roger...but he couldn't be inclined to care enough to think about it. He smiled. It didn't really matter anyways.

_Who gives a shit about Roger and what he thinks? It doesn't matter...I don't think anything does, just this...this feeling...God, please tell me it doesn't go away. _

LINELINELINE

Mark sighed, nuzzling into Marshall's throat as the other man affectionately stroked his back. "We should get going soon." Marshall murmered.

Mark looked around. They had crashed on the couch what seemed like a lifetime ago, too lazy to be bothered to move as the party continued around them. Reye was...gone. He hadn't seen her in a long while. The place was mostly empty. A couple people were passed out or just lying around, like them, on the floor in random places. A couple still gyrated to the music, but they were the only ones still dancing. The booze was long gone, and both bathrooms occupied, the one nearest the living room stinking strongly of vomit. _Hmm,...Party's over... _Mark sighed. _And I think my high is almost over too....I'm starting to feel...grounded...and normal. _

"Where do you think Reye's at?" Mark asked sleepily, unwilling to move from his warm place cuddled on Marshall

"Hmm..." Marshall rumbled in his chest. "Probably in one of the rooms...she wouldn't have left without us, she knows I'd kill her if she just left by herself...or with someone."

Mark nodded, whining slightly as Marshall began pushing him up gently, but firmly. "Come on, let's go find her."

Whining more, Mark eventually got up, allowing Marshall to pull him along in his search for his sister. They found her in the second bedroom, asleep on the bed and, to Mark's immediate surprise and embarrasment, only wearing a bra on top, the rest of her body thankfully covered by the sheets. He hurriedly turned away in respect of her, but he had easily noticed that the naked, short haired blonde next to her in bed had not been a boy.

He kept his eyes averted as he listened to Marshall gently coax Reye awake, talking to her softly as he searched around the room for her clothes. A few moments later, a dissheveled and not fully conscious Reye wandered past him, hightops unlaced, socks missing, jeans up but not buttoned, and still pulling on her tank top. He was now sober enough to flush uncomfortably at the sight, and followed her out, careful not to look back at the naked girl in bed.

As he walked down the hall, Marshall slid his arm around his shoulders. Reye was concentrating on buttoning her jeans while still walking, and so just wandered out without looking at anyone or talking. Marshall smiled at Tank who was sitting in his armchair, a joint in his hand.

"Thanks, Tank. We'll see you later."Marshall said as they walked out.

"'Night, folks."

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Mark looked over to Reye who was leaning against the building; just the climb down seemed to have made her more tired instead of waking her up, like it had him. Marshall smiled affectionately at her before moving to stand in front, bowing his back slightly.

"Vamos, m'ija." he said softly. She smiled and then hopped up onto his back, arms sliding around his neck, Marshall's arms hooking behind her knees and securing her. She laid her head against his back and closed her eyes, content to be carried the whole way home.

They walked Mark home first, Marshall only stopping to give him a short kiss. "I better get her home...I'll call you soon, okay Babes?" he said softly, trying not to wake the dozing teen on his back.

"Sounds good. 'Night."

He watched them walk off for a moment before sighing as he made his way up to the loft. He opened the door to find Roger sitting on the couch, chewing on a pencil as he stared down at his notebook.

Mark simply nodded his greeting, not looking at the musician as he hurried to his room. He could feel that the drug was no longer affecting him...but he was still afraid that Roger could see it in his face, if he just looked. Lucky for him, his roommate didn't even look at him, let alone acknowledge his existence.

Mark lay in bed for a few moments, thinking over the events of the day...and was surprised when he realized that he felt no regrets.

LINELINELINELINE

....Don't hate me!! *covers face with arms protectively*


	26. Stepping Off an Edge

So glad that I'm keeping you all guessing . I'm actually keeping myself guessing…well kinda. I know what I'm going to do eventually, I have a lot of the climax and finish of the story already written…but from this point until that point, I'm kind of clueless…so I'm just going to wing it for a few chapters.

I don't own RENT…I can't even pay my rent…

Stepping Off an Edge

"Are you sure? That's an awful lot…its still not too late to turn back and live out your normal life…Are you sure of the risks?"

Mark smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure…all or nothing."

Reye nodded and then, with a grin, she turned over the cards in her hand. "Two pair, Sweettooth! How do you feel now?" she declared proudly.

Mark bit his lip, "Oh, I don't know…" before turning over his cards revealing a straight flush. "Pretty damn good, I guess!"

Reye looked at him in surprise as he beamed at her. "You bastard!" she laughed. "Well…you bankrupted me."

Mark laughed. "Guess so…good thing we were playing with sugar packets."

Reye laughed, seizing a packet from the pile and popping it in her mouth, paper and all.

"Sick." Mark scolded slightly.

"The paper keeps the sugar from coming out all at once, it's a little bit of sweetness at a time…mmm, I think its nummy." She explained with a mischievous grin.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, you enjoy yourself."

"Want to play again? …I think I have some buttons around here we can use, or we can just split the sugar packets again." She offered as she shuffled the cards.

He agreed and they divvied up the sugar packets to play again. As they went through a few more hands they chatted for a while, until an inexplicable moment of silence passed over them. As Mark sifted through his sugar packets, counting them absently as he waited for Reye to make her bet, she suddenly looked at him.

"So Tyler is having a get-together at his place Thursday night. Marshall and I are going. Care to join?" she asked, her tone denoting her oddly cautious attitude.

"That's a switch. Tyler is having the party instead of Tank or Canvas?" Mark asked, slightly surprised.

Reye popped her gum, her hand finding its way to her curly hair. "Well, actually, Tyler has things at his place a lot…only a few select friends."

Mark frowned, a feeling of hurt going through him. _I thought Tyler and I were pretty good friends…_ Before he could say anything though, Reye continued.

"He started asking me to invite you to them weeks ago…I tell him that I do." She ran her fingers through her curls nervously. "I, uh…well, I never told you about them before because everyone there chases…I mean, its not a drug-party or anything hippie like that, but that's just what always ends up happening. That's why it's only a few people: Tyler provides the dragon."

"Oh." Mark stared at her for a moment before shrugging. "Sure, I'm in....Just so long as you're sure that I'm invited."

Reye grinned. "Not a problem, Sweettooth. Like I said, he's been asking you to come for weeks…but that was before…" she trailed off. "Just remember, Mark, no one expects you to smoke with us. You never have to if you don't want to…I just want you to be prepared for a lot of people using all around you."

He faked a smile. "Got it."

LINELINELINELINE

Roger was drinking coffee, his nose buried in a book. Mark kept glancing at him, willing him to acknowledge his presence as he walked around the loft, getting ready for the… "get-together".

Finally, he finished tying his shoes, and stood near the couch where Roger was sitting as he buttoned his jacket. It wasn't really cool enough to be wearing his jacket like that, but he was, in a way, stalling.

_Come on, Roger…say something…acknowledge me. Just notice that I'm here…please. _

He needed something from Roger, some sign that his friend still cared for him, even a tiny bit. Mark wasn't even fully aware of _why _he needed Roger to care so much at that exact moment, didn't consciously know that he was on an edge and Roger was the only one who could stop him from stepping off. He just knew that he needed Roger to care.

After all, one time…was just one time. He'd been upset, and it'd actually helped. He didn't regret it, even now…but to do it again? He wasn't sure…but that feeling! God, that feeling had been…_amazing_.

He had plenty of reasons to want to do it again…he just needed a reason to not want to, even if he wasn't fully aware that he was seeking this reason in Roger.

"I'm going out now, Roger…" he paused for a moment, but his roommate made no response. "I'll uh…see you later." He stood for a moment before sighing and walking out.

_Fuck, I hate that I care so much when he cares so little. He wouldn't even look at me… _

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Mark. …Mark!"

Mark snapped to attention at the hand waving in front of his face. "Huh? …what?"

Reye laughed. "Do. You. Want. Another. Hit?" she enunciated carefully.

Mark looked at the foil and straw in Reye's hands and nodded. "Yeah."

Reye helped him take a hit before passing it on. Mark leaned back against a warm chest and sighed, Marshall absently stroking his arm as Mark sat between his spread legs.

He looked over at Lillia who was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she spoke to no one. She was dictating her philosophies on death and the after life, not caring that no one was participating in the conversation with her, just speaking continuously. Mark listened to it for a while before turning to Tyler who was telling a joke to Canvas and Reye. Like most things involving Tyler, it was historical and political in context, but nonetheless funny, and a little unpatriotic, which was fine with Mark.

In fact, everything was fine with Mark at the moment.

Marshall had shifted to tracing little circles and shapes on the top of Mark's thigh with his fingers, his attention on Anita and Nathan who were arguing, quite avidly, about which cartoon duck was better: Daffy or Donald. Marshall interjected with the opinion that Darkwing Duck was the best and promptly had a pillow chucked at him, which hit both him and Mark.

"Hey! Watch it, you guys… and anyways, stop being so dumb. Everyone knows that Scrooge McDuck is the best." Mark muttered.

"Totally does not count! He's just Donald Duck with a beard." Anita declared firmly.

Nathan laughed. "Agreed! And it figures that _you'd_ like the miser duck."

Mark scrunched up his face in confusion as Marshall tensed behind him.

"Why?"

"Well, ain't it obvious? He's a greedy old rich man and you're a Jew."

Marshall tensed even more behind Mark, his hands leaving Mark's body to fist along his sides. "What does that mean, Nate?" Marshall asked, anger showing in his tone.

Nathan laughed. "Nothing! Just a little Jew-joke. …Don't get your panties up in a twist."

"You are such a douche, Nate." Reye rolled her eyes, playing with her chewing gum. "You know Marshall's still mad at you for the Mexican joke last month, I wouldn't be insulting Mark at the moment."

Mark watched all this with something less than interest. He didn't really care…he wasn't the most loyal Judaist, and he really didn't care about much at the moment, anyways.

"Hey, just because you guys don't know how to take a joke doesn't mean that I'm a douche. Lighten up." Nathan complained.

Marshall shook his head. "Well, fuck, Nate, it's just that I'm not even Mexican, the least you could do is get your facts straight. I'm Argentinean. …and its insulting as fuck to be called something as low as a Mexican." His tone made it obvious he was teasing.

"I heard that! Fucker!" Reye laughed, crawling over to smack Marshall with a pillow, Mark pulling away to get out of the line of fire.

She smacked him a few more times as he laughed and half-heartedly fought her off. As Reye finally backed down, Mark noticed that Nathan looked annoyed.

"Okay, so how come _You're _allowed to make Mexican insults?"

Marshall laughed. "Easy, she's my little sister so it doesn't mean anything… Also, I'm not white…Doesn't hurt that I'm a Latino, either."

Nathan muttered, "Whatever…fucking reverse racism…"

Tyler stood at that point and handed a hit of heroin to Nathan. "Okay mister KKK, you are way too sober for this shit. …Reverse racism? What are you, stupid or ignorant? Now suck up, white boy, and leave people alone."

Reye started giggling. "You called him white boy!"

"So?"

"Tyler…you're white."

They all laughed, even Nathan, and did another round of dragon, ceasing all aggression.

As Mark leaned back against his boyfriend, Marshall's arms a warm weight around his stomach, laughing softly and watching the various mellow conversations around him, he realized that nothing could feel better than this.

LINELINELINELINELINE

I really want to add more to this…but if I would, I wouldn't be updating for another week, at least…so I opted to get it out faster. Reviews are very much loved and, well, needed at this point of the fic. I require much feedback so I can determine where I'm going, in the short term…I already know where I'm going in the long term.


	27. Mi Dulce and A Job

Sorry about the month-wait. I wanted this to be a Xmas present for you all...then a New Years present...but obviously, that didn't work out. Work, family, the craziness of Christmas, and then classes starting again...plus the fact that I've been watching House pretty nonstop (I set up my parent's TV to record it automatically, since like October, and I finally watched them all...I actually had a dream the other night that I was a patient, and House was yelling at me because I'd forgotten to tell them about my ladacaine allergy, and that somehow screwed up their diagnosis...then someone called me, I woke up, and I spent the next hour trying to fall asleep and get back in the dream lol).

Also, Tuesday I was in Washington DC, baby! I saw Obama's inauguration…and although I was about as close I could get without a ticket, I still didn't get to see him (there was a small dot among all the dots on the Capital building that I imagined was him). It was still A-MAY-ZING though and the 10 hr busride there and back (with no heat btw…our bus broke) and the 10 block walk, and the insanity that was trying to get out of the mall while 2.5 million people were also trying to get out, was totally worth it!!!!!

But Anyways…

First of all, in response to some reviewers:

Yes, there will be smut, eventually. I have planned (although not written, yet...I'm really nervous about writing my first smut ever, so I've been putting it off) two separate sex scenes. That means at least two; I may do more if the first one comes out decent. I'm also going to write the two different scenes in different styles, and this does have a purpose...which I'll explain when we come to them.

Secondly, Yes, there will be an explanation for Roger's behavior, eventually. I'm actually having a little bit of an issue with this, because the original reason for his behavior doesn't seem as good as an idea that I thought it was, a year ago...either because my taste changed, or perhaps because Roger wasn't supposed to be _this_ bad...and since he's ended up more of an asshole than expected, I need to rework my plot a bit....I should have it all sorted by the time we get to that, though...hopefully.... Any creative people/good writers out there that want to help inspire me? ;D

So I hope that answers your questions...if anybody has anymore, just ask, and I shall answer...I mean, unless the answer contains spoilers, claro.

Also...there may be a point in this chapter where Reye seems like she's drifting into Mary Sue turf, but that is not my intent. I've been trying to keep her and Marshall to a bit left of the spotlight...not completely successfully, but remember that they are not the main focus of the fic, I don't ever mean them to become the main focus, they're mainly meant to be instigators and pawns of the plot. Also, Roger's being a dick, there has to be _someone_ to be nice to Mark in the meantime.

I'm trying to keep the spotlight on the relationship between Mark and Roger and also Mark's inner turmoils, and keep my OCs as just people who play roles in his inner turmoils, not as stars...eventually, their importance in the story will change...not saying how though.

Me no own RENT...oh crap, my rents due next week...*pulls out Tip Jar* ...Please? I'm just a starving [artist] college student here. ...please? *puppy dog eyes*

Mi Dulce and A Job

Reye and Mark sat in the cafe, not talking for once, just enjoying each other's company. There was no one else in the place, the two men playing cards in the corner absent, which was a rare occurence. Reye seemed distracted, sitting on a stool beside Mark, instead of her usual place on the counter, as she colored in a Scooby Doo coloring book. Mark was flipping through The Village Voice, every once in a while randomly picking up a crayon and coloring in one tiny piece of whatever picture Reye was working on at the time. .

"You know what sucks about not being a child anymore?" Reye asked, gazing down at her fourth completed page instead of Mark.

"Well...lots of things, but which are you talking about?"

"Coloring books." she said. Seeing Mark's look of confusion she continued. "When I was a kid, I colored things however I wanted...I could make Daphne's hair black and Scooby have rainbow fur... and I mean, I could still do that, of course...but I'd have to _think_ about it, I'd have to consciously decide to go against what I know they look like. When you're a kid, you don't think about how things _should_ look, you just make things how you want them to look... Now I look at a coloring book page and I automatically go to color things in based on how I know they are supposed to be... I have to make a conscious effort to be creative...and now, if I were to color Scooby with rainbow fur, even if I didn't want to feel it, some part of me would feel _silly _because I know its incorrect. I'd have to acknowledge that the picture is weird, while as a kid I wouldn't have thought it was weird at all. ...And that really sucks."

Mark laughed gently. "Yeah, I suppose it does...but who gives a fuck about how things are supposed to look? Color however you want..maybe Scooby _should_ have rainbow fur. There shouldn't be rules on that."

Reye smiled. "Yeah...I mean, I _do_ color how I want." she held up a picture of Daphne and Fred with tan skin and black hair, the sky around them a bright green. "But I mean, look at this...I like it, nothing will ever stop me from liking this picture...but a part of me knows that this is creative revision...they aren't supposed to look like this. I hate that I'm conscious of breaking rules now...before, I didn't even know the rules to break..."

"I think you're putting too much thought into coloring books, Miss Reye...But, you know, this is all a part of growing up...you lose the innocent, naive, and...naturally creative part of yourself. You'll get used to it, Miss Reye...you're not done growing up, after all."

She bit her lip. "Yeah...I wish I could prevent myself from growing up entirely..."

She picked up a purple crayon and raised it to Daphne's hair in the next page of her coloring book before sighing and lowering it to her dress instead.

There was a moment of silence as Mark turned back to the paper before Reye interrupted him again.

"Hey Mark."

He frowned, surprised at hearing his real name. "Hm?"

"I know he's your boyfriend and all...but would you ever keep a secret from Marshall? ...for me?" she asked hesitantly, her fingers curling in her hair, a sign, Mark had learned, that she was nervous.

He put the paper down, fully facing her. "What's do you mean, Reye? ...Is something wrong? ...I mean, you tell your brother everything."

She worried her bottom lip. "I know but...I can't...just, would you? ...if it was important?"

He thought for a moment before nodding, "Yeah...I mean, I can't if you're in danger or anything...but otherwise, for you... yeah, I would."

She nodded in acknowledgement, seeming to be composing her thoughts for a few minutes before, "Mark, I think I'm pregnant."

Mark felt all the air whoosh out of his chest. "Oh fuck."

She smiled wryly. "My thoughts exactly."

"What...I mean, how...no, not how...just...Who?" he stuttered.

She swept her hair back and sighed. "Well...you remember that boy I met in Chicago? The one I told you about...the reason I insisted on staying a couple extra days?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah...the one you met in Little Village...Antonio something-or-other, right? ...Wait...its his?!"

She nodded again. "Yeah, Antonio Regalado, mi dulce...It would have to be his. He's the only...boy...that I've slept with in about two months. I mean...we used condoms...mostly..."

His eyes narrowed. "Mostly?"

She shrugged guiltily. "Well, one time it broke...and we did it again a couple hours later, and didn't see a point since the one earlier had already broke and all...I mean, the harm was already done so might as well, right? ...Don't give me that look, Mark, I know that it was stupid." she sighed. "It was just...god, he was _so_ gorgeous! And so nice...and so smart and... I mean...he really was the perfect guy! He was funny and sarcastic, he cares about politics, he reads philosophy, he's fluent in Spanish, he plays the guitar, he's only two years older than me...and God, he was goodlooking! ...Can't I be forgiven for going a little stupid over him?"

"I think your present dilemma is answer enough to that."

Pouting, she shoved him gently. "Jerk! ...and its only a _potential_ dilemma..." she took a breath, holding her forehead in her hand. "Ay Dios..." she murmered. "Oh fuck...oh shit, Mark...what if I am? What am I going to do? ...Marshall is going to kill me....Fuck! ...Ay Dios, que debo hacer, que debo hacer?"

Mark, startled by the strange scene of Reye in panic mode, reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, forced to his feet as she suddenly yanked him into a hug, her face buried in his chest.

"Its going to be okay, sweetheart...do you hear me? It'll all be fine...I'm going to help you...worst comes to worst, I'll punch you in the stomach." he joked, smiling when he felt muffled laughter against his chest.

She pulled her face up. "How about you help me find a way to fix it properly? ...A Mexican baby could take a punch better than you could, unborn or not."

He laughed. "Sure, that sounds fine..."

LINELINELINELINELINE-Two Days Later-LINELINE

"You falling asleep?"

"No." Mark murmured.

Marshall smiled. "Promise?"

The filmmaker chuckled. "Promise...keep reading, I want to finish it tonight."

Marshall affectionately ran his fingers through Mark's hair before turning back to the book he'd been reading to the blonde, a few chapters at a time, over a few nights. Marshall lay on the floor, Mark's head on his chest listening to his rich voice just over the sound of his heart beating. They'd gone through a couple books this way; every once in a while it was a nice change from going out. Sometimes Reye joined them, lounging on the couch behind them as Marshall read.

It had been her who had suggested the idea in the first place. She'd been recounting how Marshall used to read to her when she was sick, even when she got older, and recommended Mark ask Marshall to read to him at some point since he enjoyed doing it.

It turned out to be good advice, and they were just now coming to the close of The Hobbit.

Reye came into the room after a few minutes, sitting on the couch she seemed to be waiting more than listening. At the end of the chapter he was on, she quickly spoke, "Hey, I'm bored stiff...wanna take a break to smoke?"

They both looked up at her, silent for different reasons.

"Please? I feel edged up...just a quick circle?"

Marshall smiled softly. "Actually, that doesn't sound too bad...Babes, you in?"

Mark didn't answer him, eyes hard as he stared at Reye. If she was pregnant, the last thing she should be doing was pumping hard drugs into her system. If she decided to keep the baby, the damage to the fetus would be substantial.

"Do you really think its the best idea for you to be chasing right now...I thought that you haven't been feeling well?" he said, speaking as subtlely as he dared.

Reye frowned at him, immediately understanding, while Marshall stared in total confusion. "Don't worry about it, Mark...I know what I'm doing."

Marshall frowned. "Is there something I should know about? ...have you been sick or something, m'ija?"

Reye shook her head. "Nah...well, I was dehydrated or something the other day. Had a real bad headache, and felt kinda weak...but after Mark left, I just ate and drank a lot and it hasn't come back. S'not a big deal." Mark frowned at the easyness of her lie, but remained silent.

Marshall bought it easily enough, and sitting up so he was leaning against the couch and Mark was lounged between his legs, they sat and watched as Reye got the heroin ready.

Mark felt a little surprised at himself. It was a little over one month after Reye had gotten back from Chicago, and therefore one month since he had first tried heroin. If he smoked tonight, which he felt no doubt that he was about to, it would be the fifth time that he had. Five times, in one month... and each morning, he would wake up without a single feeling of withdrawal or even a craving...and also without a single regret. The more he did it, the less hesitance he had to do it again. It was always a nice experience, and it gave him a sweet calm that reminded him slightly of life before the pain of Roger's mood swings, Mimi, Angel, April, HIV...back when he had just been a dumb kid full of dreams and naive of real loss. It couldn't take it all away, but it gave him a glimpse. He was a little worried of where it was going, but two things reassured him:

1. Marshall and Reye had both been doing it for longer than he had, and still did it more than he did (at least Reye did...Marshall did less than her..he was about even with Mark) and neither of them were addicted...so as long as he stayed at their level, he should be fine, he figured.

2. He felt nothing stopping him from turning it down at times. As long as he could still say no, as long as he didn't want to chase at every opportunity shown to him, he was fine. Or so he figured.

Reye was done preparing and Mark watched as she took a hit. For a moment, he stared at her flat, unsuspecting stomach. _For your sake, potential baby, I hope you don't actually exist. ...You haven't got that long of a life, if you do._

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark went home a little while after he sobered up. He was afraid to go home high, since he knew Roger knew the signs only too well…and he wasn't sure what his roommate would do if he ever caught him. The thought didn't make him consider stopping though, just made him careful to always hide it.

He slept through the rest of the night and most of the morning. When he woke up, he made a decision: he needed a job.

He'd had jobs before, of course, but since college it had only been a few, Buzzline being the lowest he'd ever stooped. He'd always been too concentrated on his work [his movie] to be bothered with actual…work. But now his film was done, and he didn't even have a new idea, so there was no excuse to remain unemployed but pure laziness. Hell, even Roger tended bars every once in a while. And he couldn't keep depending on Collins and Roger's tips to get them food, heat and AZT.

The problem was, he was kind of a quitter. He'd quit tee ball, the Boy Scouts, the trumpet, tango lessons, track, college, and every job he'd ever had. The only things he hadn't quit were his filming, writing (screenplays mostly, but he'd also written a couple short stories), and the science club (which, had it gone longer than just 7th grade, he probably would have quit). He had always been endlessly loyal to people and to ideals; he just got bored of routines very quickly. Anything that required daily or weekly practices/meetings/attendance never lasted long.

But he'd kept a job for about a year and a half once, so he figured that it wasn't impossible to keep one for at least that long again. And if not…a month or two of paychecks would be good enough for a while.

He took a shower, shaved, gelled his hair and then put on clean pants and a dress shirt. Grabbing a ball point pen and his ID, he went out into the city for the worst part of job searching: applications.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Okay, lame ending, I know…and as for that beginning with Reye… *covers face* please don't hurt me. I swear, she is not going to become a Mary Sue…and that this is not going to go in the direction that I bet you all are thinking its going to now.

Also, it is totally not farfetched for this to happen to her. I'm almost 21, and have been in college for three years. In my lifetime, I have had about thirteen friends who had a baby, got an abortion, had a miscarriage, or had a 'I might be pregnant' scare. These girls were all aged 14-23 when this happened to them. And those are just the friends who I've been close enough for them to tell me. I, myself, have taken the morning-after pill once, so who knows if I would have had a scare or gotten pregnant had I not. (FYI, ladies and girls, alcohol, weed, and boys do not mix). So yeah, because of that, I felt that this whole thing with Reye was totally reasonable.

Also, I have planned what happens next, so criticize or say what you will and don't worry about influencing my next chapter.

I'm kind of at a loss for things to happen between now and lets say…chapter 29, wherein big things will happen. Is there anything in particular you want to see? Some scene you wish would happen between my characters/canon characters? Or maybe some random OC I named a while back you want to see a return of or something like that?

Please, give me input…I need small things and time to pass before I work up to the craziness that is ahead.

REVIEW!!!


	28. Life is a Circus

I am SO SO SOOO sorry about the wait…honestly, I know that it was ridiculously long, and I will try my damndest to never make you wait this long again.

I am currently looking for a beta for this story…its really hard to find someone using the beta thing we have on this site, so instead I'm asking my readers to either volunteer or to find me someone.

My grammar and spelling are okay, but I need someone good in dialogue and characterization. I also need someone who's going to be brutally honest with me, but won't be offended if sometimes I don't take their advice. They have to be okay with slash, smut, and drug use (if they've actually used opiates, that'd be helpful). I'll need to read some of their writing beforehand.

If you guys could help me out with that, I'd love you forever.

I do not own RENT. I can't even pay mine.

Life is a Circus

"Well, thank you, Mr. Cohen. We'll give you a call by Tuesday to let you know when to come in." the man, Mark thought he had called himself 'Randy', said, shaking his hand with a very practiced fake smile.

Mark thanked him with a less enthused fake smile and left. He had applied to many places, but only two had called him in for an interview. The interview at Fed-Ex hadn't gone well; despite Mark's insistence, they hadn't believed that he could lift fifty pounds over his head. But, it now seemed as if he had a job at Eat'ems: a small diner that served "All-American" food...which was code for overly greasy hamburgers and bacon and eggs.

He was going to be a waiter/busboy, which he was fine with since he knew he could pull good tips. He may not have been a cute girl in a short skirt, but he knew how to be polite and patient and he could be quite charming when he wanted to be.

With a sigh, he pedaled off towards the cafe. A job was a mixed blessing: they could always use the money, but it meant a great loss of his time. And that meant not being able to go to the cafe everyday. It also meant that he and Marshall would have to work around two schedules now.

He locked up his bike and went in to tell Reye the good/bad news. He got about three steps into the room before he was floored by Reye. Dazed, he looked up in confusion at the teenager, who was currently on top of him and hugging him quite enthusiastically.

"Uh...its nice to be loved, Reye...but I'm kinda dating your brother." he joked.

She laughed and got up, helping him to his feet. As soon as he was standing she went to hug him again, but he quickly put a hand out. "What's going on?" he asked with a laugh.

She grinned, shouting, "I'm not pregnant!"

Mark took a moment to soak that in before he grinned widely and seized her in a bear hug. "That's wonderful!"

"I know, right? I don't think I've ever been so relieved before in my life." she went over to her place, hopping up on the counter.

"We should celebrate tonight...have a party or go out or something." Mark suggested.

Reye readily agreed before a mischievous smile crossed her face, making Mark a little uneasy. "We should celebrate right now, too!"

"Uh, how? You're at work."

She grinned. "Let's smoke...we can get away with it if we do it in the back."

"I don't know about this, Reye..." Mark said but the barista was already locking the register and putting up her "Be Back in 5" sign.

Going under the counter, she emerged with a small purse. "Come on!" She persuaded, pulling him along by his arm.

They went into the backroom, a glorified closet, really. Shelves of ingredients lined the walls, a door to a walk-in fridge stood to the left, and a rickety card table and two chairs sat in front of the bathroom, which had a shower curtain in lieu of a door.

As Mark wandered about, looking at the ingredients, Reye took an extra shelf and propped it under the doorknob, locking them in, and then went to preparing the heroin. Mark still felt unsure about chasing at Reye's job, but pushed his anxiety away when Reye waved him over to the table. There were never that many customers, outside of her regulars whom Mark knew well enough to know they wouldn't care, and her manager was nearly nonexistent.

After a while, they wandered back into the café, laying behind the counter and talking softly. Reye had to rouse herself long enough to serve a customer a few times, but mostly they just laid there. Mark made sure his high was nearly gone before he went home.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"The circus?! Are you serious?"

Marshall pouted. "Yeah. It'll be fun."

"Fun? Do you have any idea how they treat those animals? I don't blame them for turning on their trainers, I really don't." Mark argued.

Marshall sighed. "Mark, you know I know about the animal issues...but for once can we just forget about all that stuff...just for one night? You'll have fun, I promise...and this circus can't be that bad, otherwise half our friends would've already shut it down." he joked with a pleading smile.

Mark sighed. When it came down to it, he couldn't say no to Marshall, especially when he begged. "Okay, fine...I hope Maureen never finds out because she'll kill me."

Marshall laughed, swooping down to give Mark a swift kiss. "Thank you, babes...and if you really want to lessen your guilt, Reye says there's an animal rights protest outside of the university lab in a few days."

Mark laughed. "You hypocrite!" but he kissed Marshall to show he wasn't serious. "So when are we going?"

"Tonight. Reye gets off work at five, and it starts at seven. I already have the tickets."

Mark laughed, incredulous. "I know that you knew I'd have an ethical problem with it, but you knew I'd cave?"

Marshall smirked. "I figured you would...and if you didn't, I'd just tell you the truth."

"The truth?" Marshall stole a kiss and then leaned forward to speak in his ear,

"Its an all-human circus...they don't use any animals, for ethical reasons." Mark shoved him off.

"You bastard!" he laughed. "I can't believe you-mmph..." he was cut off by a deep kiss, Marshall grinning at him cheekily as they parted.

"I know...I just wanted to see if you'd let me convince you."

"So what are we going to do until the _all-human_ circus?" Mark asked.

Marshall smiled, stretching back on the couch and pulling Mark on top of him. "I think I have an idea..." he murmured, kissing Mark's neck.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark rubbed at the slight red spot located right above his collar bone, frowning at his image. Marshall came into the bathroom, hugging Mark from behind.

"Oh come on, babes...I said I was sorry." Mark sighed in annoyance.

"Yeah, but you _know_ that I don't like hickeys, Marshall."

"I know...I just forgot in the moment, you're so hard to resist." he teased, nipping Mark's earlobe. When he didn't get a reaction he sighed. "I really am sorry..." he kissed Mark's neck for a moment.

"Its not that big of a mark." he offered.

"Because I stopped you." Mark retorted, but without much feeling. He was already done being angry...it was hard to stay angry at Marshall for long.

"Yeah...we could see if Reye has any light make-up...I mean, she's a lot darker than you, but she could have something."

"Okay." Mark agreed, rubbing at the mark again, frown still in place. Marshall kissed his neck again before letting him go.

"Why don't you like hickeys anyway?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know...I never have...To me, it's kind of like the person placing a sign that says: 'I own you, bitch!'...and everyone sees that."

Marshall chuckled, but then quickly nodded at Mark's sharp look. "I guess I see that...so you're saying I don't get to own you?" he joked.

Mark shook his head. "Nope! Nobody owns me but me...no offense, but that's the way it'll always be...I really don't like that whole possessive thing."

Marshall smiled, "Duly noted...although I'll have to return that collar now...and I guess I'll have to cancel the tattoo appointment, too." he teased lightly.

LINELINELINE

Mark laughed as Marshall swiped another wisp of cotton candy from Reye, dodging her smack. It was never a good idea to get between Reye and her sugar, but Marshall was always happy to try. He grinned as he stuffed the cotton in his mouth, Mark laughing as Reye tried to lick her entire cotton candy puff, in order to claim it, before realizing that wasn't the best idea. A sudden hand on his neck brought him in for a syrupy kiss, Marshall deftly taking his caramel apple from his hand in the process.

"Hey! Give that back!" he laughed, pulling away in order to reach for it.

Marshall took a bite before handing it back. Mark laughed. Marshall had refused to buy himself anything, claiming that circus food was too unhealthy for him, and yet he had been stealing Reye's and his food all night.

Mark had to admit, he'd had fun. The circus was good, and true to his word, there wasn't a single animal involved (although three performers had come out dressed as a lion and another tried to tame them). Some of the acrobatics, trapeze and daredevil acts had been mindboggling and amazing. A couple of the acts had political implications, and Mark made sure to remind himself to tell Maureen about it.

Mark was glad he'd turned down Reye's offer to give him some acid before hand, and he knew she was glad she'd let him talk her out of doing it herself. He wasn't opposed to trying it at some point…but the night of a circus had to be too intense to stay sane. Marshall would've gotten pissed if they'd had to leave early because him and Reye had started screaming.

They walked home, Reye stopping off in their apartment while Marshall finished walking Mark home.

"Admit it." Marshall teased.

"Okay, okay…I had fun." Mark relented with a grin.

"Good." Marshall leaned in, kissing him goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, babes."

LINELINELINELINE

I wanted to make this longer…but opted not to at the last minute. I have none of the next chapter done, but I know that one big thing is going to happen so I'll shape it around that. This week is Dead Week, and next week is finals week…but that doesn't mean too much since I'm a major procrastinator and I've been doing blah in school all year. …I'll try to get the next chapter out much faster, promise.


	29. There's a First Time for Everything

I'm sorry. I haven't forgotten about this story and I haven't died…physically, I just have no life and no time and usually no energy when I do.

I do not own RENT or any characters therein. I do own my plot and my OCs.

There's a First Time for Everything

Mark wiped the sweat from his face with his apron before tossing it into the bin. _Another day, another dollar_..._well, a little more than a dollar, but not much_. He sighed, waving bye to Dennis and Rachel as he walked out of the restaurant. It wasn't a horrible job, but he was still getting used to working every day. It was especially miserable because the diner didn't have air conditioning in the back. There was a small unit in the front that made it comfortable for the customers, but the staff had to fend for themselves (which they mostly did by hiding in the walk-in cooler any chance they got).

Mark was quickly setting himself up a routine. Go to work, go home, take a shower, go to the cafe, and then go to bed. Some nights, he'd get to see Marshall and some others he'd hang out with another one of his new friends or go to a party or something with Reye, and on the weekends he usually spent his off hours at Marshall and Reye's apartment. But work was causing him to mainly just go home, though.

His coworkers were okay. A couple of them talked to him, but most of them just said what was necessary for work. No one was mean though, they just sort of ignored him. He figured it would just take a while to get into the little inner circle they had...although he wasn't really sure if he wanted in yet. As he pedaled home, he tried to remember what Marshall's schedule for the night was. He couldn't remember if he was shooting the bachelorette party tonight or tomorrow, but either way he figured he would head over to the apartment.

He was awfully glad that Marshall wasn't like Reye and had no issues defining his sexuality. Nothing would test a gay man's sexuality more than a roomful of drunk and horny bridesmaids who were twice as desperate and slutty as usual thanks to their depression over not being the bride, once again. Marshall was just too goodlooking to not be in danger of being bombarded by the bridesmaids. _Okay, I'm definitely going over to the apartment later...not that I don't trust him, but whether or not he's gay, I do not trust them to not try to rape my man...my man, oh god when did I start thinking like that..._

He finally reached the loft, choosing to chain his bike up at the bottom versus carrying it up and then down again. He wasn't planning on staying long anyways. Roger was home and sitting by the window when he came in. "Hey." Mark muttered, acknowledging Roger's half-hearted wave.

He took a shower, revelling in the lukewarm spray as it rinsed away his day of grease and grime. _Showers have never felt so good as they have since I started working at 'Cafe Grease'. _Walking out of the bathroom in a towel, he stopped to see Roger starring at him, eyes intense.

"What?" He asked, suddenly nervous.

Roger was silent for a moment before making a face. "You use up all the hot water?" he snapped.

Mark rolled his eyes. "We don't even get hot water, and didn't you shower this morning?"

"Thanks for the update, Sr. Stalker. Now why don't you go out and waste money, like usual?" Roger growled, turning from Mark and back to the window.

"Sounds like a grand idea." muttered the filmmaker, going to his room. When he left a half hour later, Roger muttered a goodbye that Mark pointedly ignored.

LINE

It turned out that Marshall wasn't home when he got there, but Mark didn't mind much. He and Reye spent some time describing heinous murders they would commit if Marshall came back with even a hint of perfume on him. Not to Marshall, of course, but Reye didn't think it'd be hard to track down the Super Slutty Bridesmaids, as they dubbed them.

Reye had, as Mark was finding out more and more, a very dark sense of humor and a rather twisted mind, when she felt comfortable enough around someone to expose it. Mark didn't mind, though, as Roger also had a very dark sense of humor and twisted mind, and he'd grown desensitized to casual conversations of mutilation and death years ago. In truth, a lot of it had rubbed off on Mark at some point, and he managed to make Reye shiver with disgust during one particularly vivid description, a feat of which he was very proud.

After a while, though, they got bored of the conversation and moved on to cards.

"Reye...Reye?"

She looked up from her hand. "Yeah?"

"...Your hand is shaking."

She looked down at her hands, and placing the cards down, rubbed them roughly on her legs. "Yeah...I'm a bit wired...drank a bunch of coffee earlier cause I stayed up last night." she responded, continuing to rub her legs.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, and Reye didn't miss the note of concern.

She grinned and Mark couldn't tell whether it was forced or not. "Oh yeah, I'm fine...I know what'd help me relax, though."

Mark shrugged with a small smile. "If you want to, sure, we can chase."

She grinned and immediately got up to get her stuff. Mark put away the cards and then watched her set up the heroin. "You're going to shoot up today?" He asked, a little confused at the sight of the syringe.

She shrugged, sliding a hand into her fading purple hair. "Yeah...but I'll set you up to chase."

He stared at the syringe for a moment, suddenly curious. "Is it much better that way?"

She beamed. "Are you kidding? Its like comparing frozen yogurt to a hot fudge sundae...or coffee at a diner to a caramel cappucino with whipped cream...or-or...or a cassette tape to a live concert. Its ten times better, and faster."

He laughed. "Okay, okay! I get it."

She stared at him for a moment. "You wanna try it? ...You'll like it, I promise. And I'll be real careful, I know just how much to give you."

He bit his lower lip for a moment. _If it really is that good…I kinda want to know what its like…just once won't hurt me…_ He shrugged.. "What the hell, why not?"

She grinned again and began liquefying the heroin. "The needle's clean...we always clean ours at night, so I'll do you first. She filled the syringe then crawled over to Mark. "Hold out your arm...yep, like that...now hold still, I need to tie you off..." she put the syringe in her teeth as she tied his upper arm with an elastic. Patting his forearm for a moment, she seemed to find something she liked because she grinned as she pulled the syringe from her teeth. "Jeez, Marky, you have perfect veins for this!" At his confused stare, she explained: "They're huge and real close to the skin...Now relax, this'll sting a little cause I ain't no doctor and I haven't perfected my technique yet..."

Mark stared, transfixed as she lowered the needle to his skin and then slid it into a vein in the crook of his arm. He winced at the prick, and then again at the sensation of foreign fluid flowing through his bloodstream. He hadn't gotten a shot in years, but doubted it felt just like this. Blood had flowed back up into the syringe, mixing with the remaining heroin and he noted that she had only injected a little less than a third of the liquid into him. Pulling the needle out, she instantly slapped a cloth onto the blood that bubbled from the wound.

"Hold that there for a moment, I don't have any band-aids." she said, and he watched in silence as she quickly tied off her own arm and slid the needle in with much less care than she had his. A sliver of disgust hit him when he realized that along with the heroin, she had just injected herself with his own blood.

And then he felt it. Warmth traveled through his whole body; he could feel it running through his veins. He could feel and hear his heart beating, slowly, so slowly it seemed, in his chest. Although his vision stayed clear, the world hazed in a way, as if he wasn't really there but only dreaming. Everything, every pain and bad feeling and bit of sorrow in his life, lifted from him, pains he hadn't even been aware of feeling. It was only now that he realized just how badly he always felt, because of good he suddenly felt. His body was heavy, his limbs weighed a ton...but he was okay with that. He was okay with everything. He felt as if he were melting into a soft cloud, and nothing could ever hurt him again. The world was dissolving into a warm and wonderful mist, and he couldn't even describe the rush flowing through his body.

He knew, instantly, that he had never been as happy or felt as good as he did, right then. He smiled lazily over at Reye who was obviously riding her own bliss, her eyes shut and empty syringe still in her hand.

Dreamy and content and...happy. Happiness in its purest form, that was his existence. _How the fuck did I ever live without feeling like this? This is...wondrous. _

"How do you feel?" Reye asked after a minute..or ten...or, hell, maybe thirty...Mark couldn't tell.

"Like someone bottled happiness and you just injected it straight into my blood." he grinned.

"I know, right?" she murmured, sliding back against the floor.

Mark lay next to her, for once content to not do anything, not talk, not move…for once, he was content just to be. He wasn't sure how long they laid there when he heard someone coming down the hall.

Mark looked up at the sound of the key scraping in the lock, watching as Marshall walked in, equipment in tow. He looked exhausted, and there were lipstick smears on his cheeks and forehead. Mark knew he should be feeling intensely jealous at the moment, but instead the sight didn't bother him in the least.

"Marshall!" he greeted, starring up at his boyfriend from the floor.

Marshall didn't smile back, or speak, for a moment, setting his equipment down almost absently as he surveyed the scene. After a moment, he broke the silence.

"You shot up." He observed tonelessly.

Mark nodded. Reye simply stared at the two of them, quiet for a rare moment. Marshall came over and kneeled in front of Mark.

"How much did you give him?" he asked Reye, keeping his eyes on Mark.

"Twenty…maybe a tiny bit more." Reye murmured.

"Units?" Marshall asked. She nodded and he nodded thoughtfully, seemingly satisfied by the answer. Coaxing Mark up into a sitting position, he slid his hands over his forehead and cheeks, then pressing two fingers into the side of his neck as he looked into his eyes. Then, appearing satisfied with his examination, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips and gently untied the tourniquet from Mark's arm that both he and Reye had forgotten about.

"Hey there, babes." He said quietly.

"How was the shoot, loverboy?" Mark asked, sliding a finger across a lipstick stain on Marshall's forehead.

He chuckled. "Horrid. Those putas were almost vicious! I thought I'd never make it out alive."

He continued to talk to Mark as he started preparing another dose. Mark watched passively as Marshall found a vein and shot up, talking the whole while. The image of blood rushing back up into the vial didn't phase him as much this time. He also noted that while Marshall shot up more than he had taken, he didn't do quite as much as Reye had.

Mark felt relaxed into his high. The first few moments had been…indescribable and amazing, but now he simply felt content, dreamy, and more relaxed and at ease than he ever had before.

Marshall rode his rush for a few minutes, and Mark and Reye let him be as they talked quietly. Marshall joined in their conversation after a while, and soon they moved onto the couch. Marshall sitting, Mark half laying on him, and Reye stretched out with her head on Mark's leg.

For once in his life, Mark finally understood.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark sighed as he walked into the loft. He'd meant to wait out his high before going home, but as it was nearly two am, and he was still doped up, he finally just gave up and went home.

Roger was sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar, when he came in.

"Hey." Mark greeted.

Roger looked up at him, made a face, and started walking over to his room without a word.

"Fuck you, too, then." Mark muttered.

Roger froze for a second but didn't turn around. After a moment, he continued on his way to his room and slammed the door.

Mark found he didn't care and wandered to bed where he fell asleep almost instantly.

LINELINELINELINELINE

…its been a long time since I've written for this, so maybe my writing has changed. But what do you guys think?

I think I might have time start jumping now. There' about twenty chapters left…I estimate. I'll try to update sooner but I can't promise anything. I've been working 20-30hrs/week, plus I'm pres of a major campus organization and I'm a fulltime student. I've literally had no time…but I will make more of an effort.

I promise I will not abandon this story!


	30. The Days After

Hey everyone. Sorry about the wait. It was Latino Heritage Month, and so my org was insanely busy and I was fighting off stress-related nervous breakdowns every other day...but now that's over, so I'm still really busy...but not unbearably so.

Me no own RENT...me can't pay rent...*le sigh*

The Days After

Mark groaned as he rolled over. _Why the fuck didn't Reye warn me? Oh god…_He groaned again in pain as his stomach knotted. He'd had some bad hangovers in his life, but never had a day after hurt so bad. He was pretty sure that he'd never been so constipated in his life, and to be constipated and nauseas as the same time just didn't make any damn sense. Plus, he had a minor headache that was quickly becoming a major headache.

There is no way in fucking hell that I'm going to work in a couple hours…sure hope I don't get written up for this… he thought as he slowly got up to make his way to the phone.

Roger was sitting out on the couch, reading. Mark wandered past him, ignoring his presence in his quest for the phone. Suddenly, he felt eyes on him and turned to see Roger starring at him.

"What?" Mark snapped.

"Are you okay?" Roger asked after a moment. "You look kinda sick."

"Obviously. Just leave me alone." Mark snarled, ignoring the fact that Roger was showing concern for the first time in a long, long time.

Roger flipped him off and walked out of the room. Mark used the opportunity to call his work. Dennis was understanding; he supposed that he probably sounded as sick as he felt, and if he laid it on a little thick, the ends justifies the means, he figured.

He decided to spend the rest of the day in bed, everything else be damned. But to his surprise, he felt better after another hour. His stomach was still giving him trouble, but not so badly that he was in real pain.

_Maybe it was all worth it, then…_

Roger stayed in his room for most of the morning. Mark didn't really notice, instead dragging himself out of the loft to film.

He saw the two teenage girls. He had nearly forgotten about them. This time, he didn't stay long. They were standing in the entrance of an alley, fighting. He couldn't make out what they said, but they were practically screaming at each other, the black girl crying in her anger. He wasn't sure what was going on with them, but considering it seemed that they had little more than each other, he hoped their friendship wasn't done.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

The next day, after he'd yelled at Reye for not properly warning him and she'd apologized, with a laugh, he found himself hanging out in the apartment, laying on Marshall's stomach as he read _Christine_ aloud. Mark usually preferred horror movies to books, but with Marshall's rich voice the words painted images in his mind.

They were just at the part where the main character had finished fixing up the car, with the car's help, when Reye came in.

"Hey there lovebirds. What're you reading now?" she asked as she came over, taking the book from Marshall's hands and examining it.

"Well, we _were_ reading _Christine_." Marshall answered, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I think I read this once…this is the one about the telekinetic girl, right?"

"No, that's _Carrie_. This one is about a possessed car. So what are you up to, Miss Reye?" Mark asked, sitting up as he realized that Reye wasn't going to let them keep reading until she was thoroughly entertained.

"Oh…that's interesting… Me? Well, I'm bored. Want to go find something to do?"

Marshall shook his head, sighing. "Aw, Reye, I'm tired. What about Canvas or Lydia? Hell, Gina's always up for an adventure, did you try her?"

Reye shrugged. "You know Lydia is hard to get out. And Canvas, Gina, Tyler, Lillia, Baby, and Shauna are in jail again."

Mark and Marshall both sat up straighter. "You didn't tell me that, Reye."

"Me either. When did that happen? And what for?"

Reye shrugged again, twisting her fingers in her hair. "Destroying private property, theft, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and they caught Tyler, Shauna and Canvas on possession." She ticked off on her fingers.

Marshall frowned. "Did this happen to happen on Saturday? You know, the night I talked you and Mark out of going laundry cart racing?"

She grinned guiltily. "Yeah. The charges are so ridiculous! All they did was ride the carts down the big hill on second street. It was only a few blocks away from the Laundromat, they tried to explain they were going to return them. And…Shauna might've crashed through a window… As for the possession, well they're lucky that only Tyler had horse on him, the others just had liquor and weed. …And honestly, the resisting arrest? Who wouldn't run?" she shrugged.

"So how long are they in for?" Mark asked.

"Everyone but Tyler gets out in two days. They'll have a trial in a coupleweeks, but they could only keep them five days for those crimes. Lilliasaid they're going to try to get the store to drop the charges against Shauna if she pays for the window…which might take a while, but they don't know that. Tyler…because he had heroin on him, can't come out until his trial unless he makes bail. There's nothing any of us can do about that…but it should only be a couple weeks, and he'll just get a slap on the wrist…a fine or community service or something. Its not like they really have room in prison anymore." She shrugged, not seeming too concerned.

Mark felt bad for Tyler. He was a good friend of his, but he knew Reye was right: Tyler would probably just get community service. And, truth be told, Marshall didn't like him hanging out with Tyler so much. He wasn't sure why, but Marshall had started getting a little touchy when Mark had started hanging out with just Tyler.

"Do you want to go out for a bit? Maybe go get some food?"

Marshall sighed again. "I kinda just want to stay in tonight, mija. How often do I really get a day off?"

Mark watched Reye pout and shrugged. "I am a bit hungry though, Marsh."

Marshall considered him for a moment before smiling. "How about we order out? We can get some Chinese, maybe?"

Reye looked at Mark and winked conspiratorially. "But I'll still be bored! How about we go see a movie? Mark, _you_ want to, right?"

Mark looked between the two. He'd actually been enjoying the down time with Marshall, but a movie _did_sound good...and Reye got incredibly hyper and sometimes mischievous when bored for too long...

He laid a hand on Marshall's arm and looked up at him through his eyelashes. "I think it sounds like fun." he said softly.

Marshall laughed and leaned down to capture Mark's lips. "**You** are getting too good at that!" With that he got up, pulling Mark up alongside him. "Alright, alright! Let's go grab some food and then hit the flicks...**I** get to choose the movie, though."

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Marshall laughed, hoisting a slipping Mark higher up on his back. Mark rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, talking down to Reye. Despite Marshall's declaration, Mark and Reye had ended up picking the movie: a cheesy black comedy/horror film called "Dead Alive" or something like that. It had been absolutely horrible in every way, so of course they had loved it.

Now they were walking back, Marshall giving Mark a piggy-back ride as they joked around and finding himself not nearly as tired as he'd thought. They stopped outside Mark's building, Mark hopping down to his feet and suddenly wishing he didn't have to go home. _I don't...really. I bet they'd let me live with them, at least for a little while..._But despite these thoughts, he still found himself waving to Reye and kissing Marshall good night before heading up to the loft.

Roger was reading on the couch when he got up. Mark went to go straight into his room when Roger's voice stopped him.

"Where have you been?"

"None of your business." Mark responded airily, too happy to be upset.

"Fucking worthless bastard." Roger ground out in response, going back to his book. Mark looked at him for a moment before sighing and going to his room.

_Why does he always have to ruin my good mood?_

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

I have the next chapter planned out a bit...but not written at all...I'll try to update soon, because I was thinking about a fic I love earlier that hasn't been updated in 3 years, and probably won't ever be again...and I really, really, REALLY want to know what happens...like now... and then I thought of my own writing practices and felt bad... SO I will try not to be one of those authors that I get so disappointed with.

Much Love


	31. And Five Times After That

Tried to update a little faster this time. Time jumps quite a bit in this chapter...and I'm not really specific about it. You know the second scene is a week after the first, and the last is two weeks after the fourth, but the rest of the timing is left vague. You can imagine as much or as little time passing in between these scenes. Style wise, the scenes are a bit shorter, a bit blunter, and less detailed than usual...I'm experimenting a little bit.

I don't own RENT or any characters therein. I do own my plot and my OCs (Marshall, Reye, Jerrod, Canvas, Tank, Tyler, Lillia, Joey, Lactose, Leather, Gina, Shauna, Antonio...and there's probably more...damn, I put a lot of OCs into this...)

And Five Times After That

Mark grinned, joining in the singing of _Happy Jail-Escape to You_ as he watched Tyler laugh. The whole group was hanging out in Canvas' place, celebrating the release of Tyler from jail (with a sentence of thirty days of community service). They finished singing and Tyler blew out the two candles on the mockery of a birthday cake in front of him. It had been his second time arrested, which was rather good in comparison to the rest of the crew. Even Marshall had been arrested once, although Reye never had (which was very fortunate since, as a minor, she either would've ended up in social services or back in Tiffin with her mother).

The rest of the party was as usual. Everyone congratulated Tyler on escaping the fuzz...although, he hadn't, actually. Eventually, Mark found himself shuffled into the back room with Reye, Tyler and Lillia. Marshall had gone to the bathroom, and had yet to return. He watched the three of them load needles and shoot up before he felt Reye at his side.

"Chase or mainline?" she asked sleepily.

Mark bit his lower lip before deciding. "Mainline." She grinned like a cheshire cat and tied his arm off. He still winced at the sting of the needle, watching the blood well up in the syringe and then on his arm. It occurred to him, a minute later, that he hadn't asked if she'd used a clean needle on him. A minute after that, he no longer cared.

Marshall hadn't returned after a while, and Reye and Lillia had gotten up to dance together. Mark soon found himself sitting next to Tyler, both of them lounging and watching the dancers with disinterest.

"Congrats on just getting community service. Whatcha got to do?" Mark asked after a moment.

Tyler shrugged. "Gotta clean up graffitti. Was hopin' I'd get to work at a rehab or read to kids or some shit like that, but they thought I'd be a danger to the drug causes. Idjits, I like kids...although I probably woulda sold drugs to the rehab people, so I guess they were right about that." he laughed.

Mark laughed too, despite believing him. A sober Mark would've been disgusted at the idea of giving drugs to people in rehab, but somehow it didn't seem like a big deel then. "I wonder where Marsh is...he's been gone a while." he mused.

"Yeah...how are you two doing, anyhow? You seem pretty close." Tyler noted.

Mark grinned. "Good...we're good...What's the deal with you two? I thought you were friends, but lately he's been getting edgy when I'm around you."

Tyler chuckled. "Probably jealous...he still doesn't trust my character since I cheated on him."

Mark sat up straighter. "Wait, you and Marsh used to date?"

"Well...yeah. Didn't he tell ya? ...I mean, it was a long time ago...bout three years, I think. And we stayed friends after...probably woulda took me back, but see the one I cheated on him with was Lillia. And shit, man, I was in love after that." He got a dreamy look in his eyes for a moment before continuing. "He's probably edgy with you and me being such good friends cause he's afraid I'll try to steal ya. And while you're awfully cute" he paused to pinch Mark's cheek teasingly, "I'm still in love with that gorgeous girl over there." With that he stood, wobbly, and sauntered over a dancing Lillia.

Mark looked up as Marshall suddenly came in and sat down next to him, pulling him into his lap.

"Where ya been?" Mark asked as he leaned back against his chest, drowsily.

"Kara was sick in the bathroom. She didn't want to leave, so I helped her wash the vomit out of her hair." he explained.

"Oh, okay." Mark murmured, knowing it was true.

He ended up falling asleep on Marshall's chest for the rest of the party.

LINELINELINELINELINE

It had been a week and a half since Tank's party, and Reye and Mark were sitting in the cafe, talking.

"I'm not saying he's a bad director, I'm just saying he's overrated." Reye insisted.

"You just don't understand the impact he's had. He's groundbreaking with some of his films."

Reye sighed. "I mean...some of them are okay...but some of them seem to just reiterate the stereotypes he's supposedly fighting, but with a different perspective. I just think he's not as important as everyone thinks..."

"You're insane." Mark declared.

"I'm just saying...and I got a weird feeling about him...Like in ten years time, we're going to find out he's completely sold out."

"Spike Lee sell out? Sure, that'll happen." Mark muttered sarcastically.

"Just this feeling. Now, speaking of overrated, what about that Kubrick character?"

Mark's gaze would've brought a weaker person to tears. "You have got to be kidding me! You are not about to dismiss Kubrick."

Reye laughed. "Of course not! _The Shining _was awesome."

Mark agreed, deciding not to even go into the even better Kubrick films since he knew Reye had probably only ever seen the aforementioned one. He forgot sometimes, but Reye really was still a child in some ways, and he had to wait for Marshall to discuss certain subjects in depth.

"I'm really bored" Reye complained idly, after a moment.

"You always are." Mark laughed.

"Want to go in the back?" she asked.

Mark bit his lip. They weren't at a party, neither of them were upset…there really was no reason to shoot up. "I don't know…maybe not today."

Reye pouted. "Oh come on, please? I'm gonna feel like a junkie if I do up by myself." She made puppy dog eyes at him and finally he relented, with a laugh.

"Fine! But you really should be more careful while at work."

She laughed. "Sweettooth, half the time I'm sleeping under the counter, I'm actually sleeping off a high. Why else would I actually keep a stash here?"

"I see…" he shook his head, somehow disappointed but allowed Reye to pull him into the back and inject him.

LINELINELINELINE

"Stop moving!" Reye chastised, holding the needle over a quivering, pale forearm.

Mark giggled. "I can't help it! Marshall keeps tickling me."

"Yeah, well he better stop. If you're not still, I could accidentally stab through the vein." She warned.

Mark struggled to hold still, and Marshall suddenly stopped his horseplay to look at Reye. "You're doing it wrong anyways." He said, taking the syringe from her. "How many times do I have to tell you not to come down at it? You're lucky _you _haven't gone through the vein yet." He slowly and carefully slid the needle across the flesh of his arm and horizontally into the vein.

Mark watched with interest. _Huh…Reye does do it a dangerous way, if you actually think about it…coming down vertically at it…Hurts less this way, too._

Marshall pulled the needle out and kissed the tiny wound, untying the tourniquet. At first, Mark had felt a little bit like a baby, with Reye or Marshall always taking care of him and controlling his heroin use, but now it was nice. He didn't have to worry about the amounts or whether or not he could actually inject himself. They just took care of it for him.

Marshall and Reye injected themselves, and he watched them ride their highs through his own thick haze.

Mark sighed. Marshall had had a bad day…but was doing rather good now, as it seemed. At this rate, he was beginning to hope at least one of them would have bad days more often.

LINELINELINELINE

"Gina?" there was a muffled sound from his waistline, but no other response. "Gina!"

Gina finally looked up, a mischievous look in her bloodshot eyes. "Shh, its okay, Marky!"

"Gina, get offa me!" Mark muttered, swatting his hand in her general direction.

"You are no fun, Marky." She answered, sitting up slightly but still on top of him. At least she was leaving his belt buckle alone, though.

Gina was on something, probably E, and had sauntered in bragging about her blow job abilities. Then she had insisted on demonstrating on Mark, who was high enough on china white to not notice right away. It was only because Joey and Tank had started hooting and hollering that he realized that his jeans were nearly undone and Gina's face had been _there_.

"I really am amazing, though!" she bragged, pressing her face into Mark's belly, but now lazily rather than sexually.

Mark nodded, and patted her head. "I'm sure you are…but I really doubt Marshall would like you proving it…at least with me. Why don't you find someone else to prove it with?"

Gina suddenly grinned, seemingly liking that idea and standing. "Volunteers for the best blow job of your life?" she shouted, loud enough for many people to hear her just over the throbbing music of the party. A few hands instantly went up.

Gina went to go off in a guy's direction when Mark grabbed her elbow. "Do me a favor, G, make him wear a condom. Nothing's nastier than an STD in your mouth."

Gina smirked. "Of course! How will I ever get you or your boytoy to kiss me then?"

Mark laughed. "You're crazy." Sometimes, Gina took things way too far...mostly when she was high. But she was cool enough the rest of the time, so mostly everyone put up with it. It worked out for the best, though, that Mark had been sober enough to stop her. He doubted Marshall would've just laughed it off.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark winced as he rolled over. His stomach hurt badly, there was a very uncomfortable pressure in his temples, and he felt like he was coming down with something. _Note to self, pick up medicine on the way home from Marshall's_.

He got up, despite not feeling well, and got ready. He did feel a little better after his shower. He was heading over to the kitchen when Roger stopped him.

"You sick or something?"

Mark looked at him, but didn't see much warmth or concern in his face. "Don't worry about it." he muttered.

Roger chewed his lip. "You're just...kinda pale and shaky. Maybe you should go to the free clinic before you infect the whole loft."

Mark rolled his eyes at the aggression that seemed to come and go with Roger's words. "I said I'm fine...just got a stomach ache is all. Why do you care?"

"I don't! I just don't want you killing me, is all." Roger snarled, stalking past.

Mark suddenly stopped in his tracks. If he _was_ sick...he really shouldn't be around the loft...cause if _Roger got sick..._ But for some reason, he had a feeling that he'd feel better later...and if not, he'd crash at Marshall's.

Exchanging no more words, he finished getting ready and headed out to their apartment. Marshall wasn't there when he got there. Reye mentioned that he had forgotten to pay rent and was running over to the bank and then super's office, and would be back soon.

Mark found himself pacing around the apartment after a while, restless and bored. Finally, he sat on the couch next to Reye and tried conversation for a bit before his body aches got a little worse, and he figured he was coming down with a fever with how his skin felt.

"Miss Reye, I do not feel good...I probably won't stay long today."

She nodded in sympathy, and offered to get him some tylenol when he suddenly thought of something.

"Would it be okay if we shot up today?" he asked tentatively.

She laughed. "I think you know thats okay with me, Sweettooth. You've never suggested it before, though...usually I do." she mused for a moment before shrugging and going to get the supplies.

_Strange, she's right...it is always someone else's idea...Oh well, I don't feel all that great and I'm sure a little boost will help out a lot..._

As he watched her prepare his hit, he suddenly wondered how he'd gotten that far. He'd sworn to himself it was a one time thing...but that was weeks and weeks ago...and he was constantly thinking, _one more won't hurt_... And, he figured, it didn't. It was just something else to look forward to, something else to keep his mind off loss and pain and Roger...except this way worked a million times better than anything else. To feel that good? To not feel the icy grip Roger's actions usually held over his heart? To forget HIV and death and struggles and hatred...just for a little while..._makes it all worth it. _

_Because sometimes I just like to...feel good_.

When Marshall came back, Mark and Reye were lounged about. Mark was nodding a little, and Marshall checked his pulse and pupils before sighing.

"Don't you think you guys are doing a bit much?" he asked Reye.

"Let me think about that...nope."

He rolled his eyes and proceeded to roll himself a joint, laying off the heroin for a night. "Well, just watch it."

"Oh, don't stress, Marsh. I hadn't shot up in four days. For Mark, it'd been almost two full weeks! No wonder he was the one to suggest it, tonight." she argued, her voice and movements still sluggish.

"Yeah...I guess." They hung out for a while, talking and then Marshall started reading a new book to them: _Interview with the Vampire_. He, himself, wasn't much into vampires, but he saw it at Goodwill and thought Mark and Reye might like it.

After a while, Marshall walked Mark home. Mark was still a little high, but didn't much care. He walked into the loft, feeling a hundred times better than he had when he'd walked out. Roger was eating offbrand soup and glancing at the Village Voice, but seemed to focus on Mark when he walked in.

The filmmaker ignored it, instead wandering around the loft, straightening and fixing random things. Finally, Roger caught his attention.

"Hey Mark?"

"What?"

Roger took a long breath, seeming to be thinking before he continued. "If something was wrong...you'd tell me, right?"

Mark turned to stare at him, suddenly feeling like laughing and crying at the same time. But instead, he just smirked.

"No."

And he left a speechless Roger sitting on the couch.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Okay...so what did you think??? I realize that not much happened in each scene aside from Mark shooting up, but that was the point of this chapter. I needed him to progress further into using, and I didn't want to draw it out anymore. Also, I'm sure Kubrick and Spike Lee are totally cliche directors to talk about for a filmmaker...but remember, he's talking to Reye, who is not a movie buff...and I'm actually a really big Kubrick fan. Clockwork Orange is like having your mind raped...not really sure why I like it ;)

PLEASE REVIEW!!!! Questions, comments, ideas, criticisms, praise, corrections, inspirations, etc. Review!!

I especially want to know what you think is happening and what you think will happen next. Knowing which direction I'm leading or misleading people is important to know how subtle or blunt I should be being, and also sometimes gives me inspiration.

Much Love


	32. Dealing with the Man and Names

I'm very sorry about the long wait. I had a minor mental break and had to be hospitalized for 5 days (not a very pleasant experience. the nurses treat you like children, you get sleeping pills at night and ativan when you're visibly upset, whether you want them or not, the group sessions are reminiscent of health classes on depression and drug use, they try to make you go to AA whether or not you're an alcoholic, the food sucks, and they don't let you smoke cigarettes...which is cruel and unusual to do to a room of depressed people! ...But I'm alive, so I guess it was a good thing, in the end). That was in November, and since, I've been getting my life back under control... or attempting to. Oh, and Christmas, of course...very busy time.

Merry (late) Christmas, everyone! I hope your holidays are going well!

This chapter is full of many conversations...but its pretty important. Next chapter is huge...I'll try to update much faster, this time around.

I do not own RENT...Please, no sue: *my* rent is due and I don't even have enough to pay that

Dealing with the Man and Names

Reye was twisting her fingers in her hair and popping her gum. Both signs she was nervous, and to see them combined was never a good thing. Mark took a breath and watched her. _Maybe I was out of line for asking if we could shoot up again...I mean, we __**did**__ just do it two days ago..._

Finally, she broke the silence. "This is really hard to explain without sounding rude, so I apologize in advance, Mark." She took a breath and twisted her curls around her fingers and probably got some tangled in her rings. "Ya see...heroin is expensive, and it wasn't a big deal before, when you just did some here and there...but lately, we've been doing it more often and...well..."

Mark sighed in relief. "Reye, if you want me to start putting money in, I'm okay with that." He chuckled at the look on her face. "Jeez, its not that big a deal. I mean, it makes sense. In fact, I'm sorry I haven't offered before now." She continued to stare at him and he just started laughing.

"Don't you laugh at me, Mark Cohen!" she sulked. "I was all nervous about this all day! I thought you'd think I was being so rude. I mean, I hate asking for money, especially from friends."

He smiled, leaning over and giving her a half-hug. "Don't worry about it. From now on, I'll pay for my share of it, you won't even have to ask."

She grinned. "Yeah, okay! And, if you want, I can hook ya up with our dealer so like, if we're not around and you feel like relaxing, you don't have to worry about that."

Mark frowned slightly. "I dunno about all that..."

"Oh, he's not so bad. Doesn't talk much, doesn't hassle you. He operates mainly through contacts. And his stuff is always clean. Not a bad guy at all. His name is Alex, and he's over by that old theatre on A from sundown to sun-up. I'll take ya there sometime."

"Yeah, maybe..." Mark hesitated. He wasn't sure about getting involved with an actual dealer, even if Reye thought he wasn't so bad..._ What does that even mean, 'not so bad' for a dealer?_ After all, he wasn't even all that serious with this stuff anyways.

"Well, we'll go see him tomorrow...just in case. Cause he's not gonna sell to ya unless one of his customers introduces you. He's really careful, ya know, won't even talk to a new person on their own. ...And its really not a good idea to get H off some random dealer. One time, Shauna had to go to the ER because the bastard she bought from had cut the heroin with a bunch of arsenic and shit."

"Well...okay.

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Mark didn't see the man right away. He was standing in the entrance of a little alley beside the old Aztec theater, smoking.

Reye walked straight up to him, no nerves, no fear. "Hey, Alex. How's the wife doin'?" He shrugged, hands in his pockets. Reye smiled and gestured to Mark. "Alex, this is my friend, Sweettooth."

The man nodded at him and Mark just dumbly smiled back.

"Well, see you later." Reye said, shaking his hand before turning and walking away with Mark in tow.

"You're right, he is quiet." he remarked with a laugh.

She grinned. "Yeah, he doesn't have much he _has_ to say...not a conversation guy." She smirked again. "But anyways, he knows you now so he'll sell to you. He's really good with faces."

"Did you actually get some? I didn't see you make an exchange."

She grinned. "I did when I shook his hand. And he doesn't actually have a wife...well, he might, but I wouldn't actually know. Its a code he worked up. Mentioning his wife gets you a certain amount, his kid another, his mother another, so on, so on, so on. I'll teach ya all that later."

Mark laughed. "Pretty advanced covert action he's got going there."

"Yeah. He's super careful that way. Most dealers aren't like that...but then again, most dealers get caught at some point. Alex never has."

"Still, he should be careful. Even the most careful guy can run out of luck at some point." Mark pointed out.

"V. true, v. true. That's one of the reasons I never got into it. Alex offered me a job a few months back, nothing professional just dealing a bit to people I know in order to pick up a few extra bucks. But I decided against it...I mean, the offer is always open...but to be perfectly honest, I might not be the right type for a dealer anyways. I'm too trusting and I don't like asking for money...and I'd always want to give my friends discounts...Plus I barely have a working knowledge of the metric system..."

Mark laughed. "Yeah, that about sums up the traits of the worst dealer on Earth."

She pouted before laughing as well. "Yeah, true... I think I'm just destined to be a barista...which means I'm probably destined to work at Trubbel forever...I mean, I know we're doing okay for a basement business, but I don't really think this whole coffee shop thing is going to catch on. How many different types of flavored coffee could people like?"

"True...Did you ever tell your boss about that frozen coffee idea? The blender thingy?"

Reye popped her gum and shrugged. "Yeah...but he thought it was dumb. Said that cold coffee probably wouldn't be a big seller. Oh well...we're too small of an operation to be taking risks anyways...most of our money comes from the illegal shit he does through the store, laundering money and shit like that."

Mark laughed. "I always kinda wondered how you stayed in business considering almost everyone there has an unpaid tab."

LINE

They went back to the apartment and talked until Marshall got home. On Reye's advice, Mark didn't mention meeting Alex to Marshall. They decided to go out to see a local performance: a modernized play version of Oliver Twist.

"So, what did you think?" Marshall asked, sliding an arm around Mark's waist as they walked.

"It was...interesting. And different..."

"It was like having my mind raped! And I can't decide if I enjoyed the experience or not." Reye cut in.

They both shot her a dirty look. "It was not like having your mind _raped_."

"Yeah, I've had my mind raped and this wasn't it...more like a mental...molestation." Mark interrupted, laughing.

"Yeah! If you want your mind raped, watch _Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer_." Marshall said.

"True! Or..._A Clockwork Orange_, that'll rape it nice and hard."

"Mark! You are such a freak!" Reye exclaimed, shoving him playfully.

"I thought that was one of your favorite movies?" Marshall asked, appearing confused.

Mark shrugged. "I never said it was a _favorite_...And I said it rapes your mind, I didn't say whether I liked that or not...I do...honestly, I have no clue why I like _Clockwork Orange_... Except that watching horror flicks from a young age has probably made me rather twisted. But _Henry _was way too much for me, I barely got through that one."

They agreed with a laugh. "You guys are right...That play was a bit fucked, but not _that_ disturbing...not quite mind-rape level...I still can't decide if I liked it or not, though." Reye said thoughtfully.

"Well...it was really different. And it left me with a bit of a chill...I think I liked it." Mark decided.

Marshall laughed. "Yeah...Let's grab some take-out tonight, I feel like...Indian."

"Good idea!" Reye chirped as she began to bounce around the pair. Throwing her arms around Marshall's neck she declared, "I want a piggy back ride!"

Marshall laughed, pushing her off. "No way! Do you realize how short your skirt is, cochina?"

"Oh, I don't care if anyone sees my nalgas...What's the point of buying cute underwear if no one sees it?"

"Cochina!" Marshall muttered again, shaking his head.

Mark laughed. Reye walked up beside him. "They're mint green with cupcakes on them." she stage-whispered.

"Reye! Mark doesn't want to know what your panties looks like." Marshall scolded.

Reye grinned. "Marshall's wearing red speedos." she's declared.

Marshall turned red, letting go of Mark in order to chase after Reye. "I am **not**!"

"Maybe not, but that's something Mark probably _does_ want to know. Right, Mark?"

Mark blushed, keeping quiet.

"He was walking around in his boxers this morning...I could tell you, but maybe he'd rather show you." She teased.

"Reye! Knock it off. You're too interested in my life for it to be healthy." Marshall snapped, no longer amused.

"Hey, I'm trying to _help_."

"Reye Alicia Valdez, you freaking act your age." Marshall snapped.

"Marcel Adriano Romero, you stop overreacting. Mark knows I'm just joking around, right Sweettooth?"

Mark shrugged. "Uh, yeah...its cool, Marsh...Um...didn't someone mention Indian food?" he said, switching the subject.

"Yeah...let's go." Marshall smiled, annoyance forgotten.

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"So...your real name is Marcel?" Mark asked with a teasing smile as he looked up at Marshall.

Marshall shrugged, carding his fingers through Mark's hair. "Yeah, Marcel Adriano, but no one's called me that since I was eight. I went to an elementary school where it was mostly white students, and after I started getting teased for my name a teacher suggested I let people call me Marshall, since they sound similar...plus, for some reason teachers always had trouble pronouncing Marcel for the first few weeks...Reye's always given me shit for it. She thinks I'm trying to hide my ethnicity or something... pretend that I'm white."

Mark frowned. "But you don't...I mean, I hear you guys speak Spanish sometimes, and Reye's a pretty white name." He defended.

Marshall chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mark shortly. "Thanks, babes, but...I have to be honest, she does have a point sometimes. I mean, Reye is her real name. She's mentioned that she sometimes wishes she'd have had a traditional Mexican name, but she's too attached to Reye to change it. And I never actually spoke Spanish until Reye came along, I mean...I _could_, but if I didn't have to, I didn't. And all the slang we use is Chicano slang, stuff I picked up from her and Lillia...

"Its-its really hard to explain. I mean, I've always been proud of my _heritage_, being Argentinean...but my family doesn't like to identify as Latino or Hispanic. They consider themselves almost European...and I grew up being called Moreno and wishing I was lighter because I'm the darkest of my family, and I came to New York in seventh grade and found out that I'm light-skinned!" he laughed. "That's why Reye and I don't see eye to eye on some things...we're both Latino, but we grew up really different. I wanted to be lighter, she still wants to be darker, I had to be re-trained to speak Spanish casually, she always has, I never thought about race issues until recently and she has posters of Guevara, Chavez, and Malcolm X. Hell, I used to mark 'Caucasian' on my standardized tests in school." he laughed again and shrugged. "Like I said, its hard to explain."

Mark nodded. "So...what's your family like? You don't usually bring them up."

"Well, babes...they're difficult... I still keep in touch with my younger sister, Lucy (her real name is Lucia, by the way) and my grandmother. My parents and younger brother refuse to speak to me until I 'give up this perverse lifestyle', as they put it. Its been seven years, now. My brother is going to college in a year, I'm going to try to contact him then...maybe being away from our parents will change his mind about me...At least, I hope.

"My other sister, Natalia, is twenty-two and graduates from the University of Michigan this Spring. She hasn't spoken to me in five years, but not because of the way I live...we had a fight because I knew Lucy was going to drop out of college and I refused to talk her out of it...it was her own decision to make. But Lucy ended up working as a cashier and getting pregnant before marriage, and Natalie's never forgiven me for it.

"I don't see the big deal, she married the guy a year later and she's perfectly happy with her life. Has another kid, too. Just because I'm the oldest, Natalie always wanted me to fix everything...but I'm just not that type of person."

Mark nodded, kissing Marshall's collar bone in sympathy. "Maybe you're doing it the right way, Marsh. You can't always prevent other people's mistakes, and if you try and they still fail...it can be really hard to deal with. I've always tried too hard to fix everyone around me, and look where its gotten me."

Marshall leaned down and kissed his brow. "Yeah, right in my arms...we both did _something _right."

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Mark tapped the side of the syringe, pushing the air bubbles to the top like Reye had showed him. _For having a job! He calls me a mooch for months and now he's pissed at me for having a job! _The makeshift tourniquet snapped off and he clumsily retied it, pulling hard with his teeth. _Fucking asshole...Why was he even in _my_ room anyways? And of course he'd find the pay stub and confront me_. He tapped the vein in his forearm. _How dare he think that I don't contribute! I've been spending my own money on groceries and bills since my first paycheck...maybe not my whole paychecks, but a lot. _He grimaced as he slid the needle into the vein slowly. _I swear, sometimes its like he does nothing all day but think of reasons to pick fights with me. _He pushed the plunger down and watched as liquid H and his own blood flowed into his vein. _Whatever, let him throw his little fit...I'll get over it. _

Untying the tourniquet and tossing the syringe aside, he collapsed on his bed, in bliss.

_Thank god Reye sold me a stash to take home..._

LINELINELINELINE

The next chapter is...about half done. The only part *not* done is a scene that...I've been putting off writing for a while, because I've never written anything like that before... read a lot of it, but never written any...wish me luck.

PS: I thought it was about time we got to know more about Marshall, which is the purpose of some of the conversations. I also thought it was about time I resolved the fact that 1: coffee shops didn't exist till like two years after this time line, 2: Trubbel Cafe stays in business despite the fact that it only seems to have three employees and Reye never seems to actually *sell* any coffee, just give it away on "tabs". I also decided that it was about time Mark's heroin use wasn't 100% dependent on Reye, Tyler and Marshall (Marcel lol...sorry, I'm Latina and I sometimes have to throw in some stuff because of that). So...those problems are now solved...I'm rather proud of myself, hahaha.

PSS: I based their opinions of the Oliver Twist play on a movie I once saw called Twist. Its about Dodger, who is a heroin-addicted rentboy, and Oliver, a teenage runaway who Dodger recruits to his lifestyle. It is **loosely** based off Oliver Twist, in that there are parallels in story sequence and characters. Its a very good, very dark and very intense film that didn't quite rape my mind, but left it slightly altered. I recommend to those who are not faint of heart.

PSSS: The next chapter will include things that are going to force me to up the rating to M, so keep that in mind if you search for this story again.

LINELINELINE

**For those readers who have stayed with me throughout my little hiatuses and long months of no updates, I really appreciate it! To show my love for you, here are some more teasers for future chapters: **

**(Now, these aren't as vague as the ones before, so there may be some *Spoilers* if you think about the teasers long enough...if you don't want to spoil the story, just don't analyze them that much:). **

**Remember, these are just little pieces from what I already have written for future chapters. I've also cut and paste the teasers that I put up before that haven't shown up in the story yet, in case any of you forgot those. **

**Remember, if there's an ellipsis (...) it may be written that way, or it may be because I cut something out of the sentence that I thought was TOO revealing. Also, these are randomly ordered. In one scene, I replaced the character's name with NAME. I felt the teaser was more powerful this way, although it does read a little awkwardly :P)**

**Enjoy! **

LINELINE

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"NAME! NAME please, please let me out! Please, NAME!" Mark shouted as he pounded on the door, every so often seizing the knob and turning it uselessly. NAME had put something against the door and it wasn't budging an inch. "Let me out! Goddamnit, please! NAME! NAME, let me out! You can't keep me in here! Please, let me out!"

He didn't hear anything from the other side for a long time, and then he heard the sound of NAME's junky radio blasting, to drown out his voice.

LINELINE

He couldn't believe he had yelled at Roger that way…screamed at him even. He had never done that before, not really. Part of him felt something at that, like guilt almost. Then he smiled, on the other hand, it had felt **good**, yelling like that. Roger didn't give a fuck about him, anyways.

LINELINE

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It was possible that Mark was going to say more, but he was cut off by a sudden punch to his face, his body knocked down to the floor. For a moment, complete silence fell about the room as Mark and Roger just stared at each other.

LINELINE

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"Can you knock off the whole trying to 'save me' bit? It is really getting annoying..."...

LINELINE

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He suddenly stopped at the sound of ... The air caught in his chest at the sight of Roger standing next to his dresser, his arm still up and eyes wide, gazing at the broken ... at his feet as if even _he_ couldn't believe what he'd done.

"Oh fuck...Mark, I'm-"

But Mark was already on his feet, pushing past Roger as he went down on his knees to gather the broken pieces...

Roger stared at him, at a loss. "Mark...please, I'm sorry-"

"Get out." Mark said quietly.

"Mark, I-"

"I said, get out!" Mark shouted, getting to his feet. "Get the fuck out! I fucking hate you, just leave!"

LINELINE

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After a couple blocks he found himself unable to run anymore, suddenly hit with a wave of body pain and nausea that was so strong that he has just enough time to stagger into an alley before he retched. ...He coughed and continued to gag, dry heaving painfully for a few minutes...he simply shifted slightly to the side, collapsing on the dirty ground beside his puddle of vomit, gasping for air.

LINELINE

LINELINE

Mark woke up to the sound of his projector running. It was in the other room, but Mark had almost like a sixth sense for his equipment. Quietly slipping out of bed, he slowly and silently crept over to the doorway. A hot flash ran through his body at the sight of what Roger was watching.

LINELINE

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**After this point are the teasers that I had given you before, minus the ones that I've already used in chapters. **

LINELINE  
Mark opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. He heard voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Then the voices got louder and one of them was shouting…and then two of them. And then a new voice came in and then it got quiet. Groaning, he threw an arm over his eyes, only to feel something tug at his skin. ...  
LINELINE  
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He stumbled in, and nearly fell into Roger. He looked up at him, noting that Roger did not look happy.

"Where the hell have you been? Its five in the fucking morning and you didn't even come home last night!" Roger demanded.

Mark stared at him, irritated. "Where the hell have you been, Roger?"

"How the fuck does that make any goddamn-"

"And since when have you cared where I go?" he snapped, interrupting him.

Roger started yelling something, and then stopped, taking a step closer to Mark as he started looking him up and down... Suddenly, Roger's eyes went wide...  
LINELINE  
LINELINE  
Roger looked the filmmaker up and down. Mark was wearing brown corduroys and a green sweater. His scarf was missing, revealing numerous hickeys on his neck and leading down under his sweater. His eyes were half closed. His lips were dark and bruised.

Roger frowned deeper. Mark hated hickeys, always had, yet he kept coming home with more and more. He remembered how upset he had been after the one time Maureen had given him a hickey. He actually stood up to her about it and complained about it to Roger long after the actual hickey went away.  
LINELINE  
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Roger watched the door shut before walking over to the couch and collapsing on it. He braced his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. For the first time he forced himself to see the truth: he had lost Mark.  
LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Please review.

Much Love and Happy New Year: Di


	33. Karma

Hey everyone. This chapter was originally supposed to be A LOT longer, but I knew it was going to take me a few more weeks to finish writing the rest...so I just opted to split it in two and update now.

Now, there's something different about this chapter that I should explain: for a couple scenes, the POV goes to Roger. (well, kinda. Obviously, this story is 3rd POV, but it still contains Mark's thoughts and revolves around where he is and what he's doing. In this chapter, there are parts that switch to Roger having that place). I've always planned to do this at one point in the story, specifically for just one scene that will happen later. However, two things made me give Roger a POV. Number one, this story is supposed to focus on Mark and Roger, not the OCs, and for a little bit there, I think I forgot that...so it seems like telling a scene or two from Roger's POV will put the spotlight back where it belongs. Secondly, since I was going to do it once, later, I thought it'd be interesting to start doing it every once in a while...and it came to me as an idea for this chapter and I thought it worked better this way.

PS: As of this chapter, this story has officially become Rated M (Rated R right now...possibly rated NC-17 later, if I can get away with it)

I do not own RENT or any characters therein. When I become a master-thief, maybe I'll make Mark and Roger my crown jewels....bwahaha

Karma

Mark yawned into his generic Cap'n Crunch. Him and Reye had been going to parties more than usual. Between Tyler's, Canvas', and Tank's places, there always seemed to be a good time waiting to be had. Marshall didn't always go with them, but wasn't the type of boyfriend to get angry over Mark going out without him. Roger had been almost civil to him whenever Mark wandered home, but between going out, dates with Marshall, and work, Mark wasn't really at the loft long enough to be badgered into a fight anyways.

Roger came out of the bathroom and hopped up on the counter next to the filmmaker. "Hey, Mark, I need a favor."

Mark resisted rolling his eyes. "Erm...maybe. What's up?"

"Troy cancelled on us, again, and its too short of notice to find a new AV nerd. Think you could come up to my gig tonight and help us out with the sound system? The main amp has been shorting, lately. I'll even throw you what should've been Troy's cut of the pay."

Mark folded his arms. If Roger was asking for his help, he _had_ to be desperate, and he wondered why he didn't care more. "And I should do this because?"

"Don't be such as asshole." Roger snapped. "It'll just be this once. Come on, I nee--_we_ need you."

Mark pursed his lips then sighed. "What time?"

A shadow of a smile crossed Roger's face. "We go on at eleven, but I need you there at ten to help set up."

Mark nodded. "I'll be there."

Roger hopped down and started to go back to his room.

"You're welcome!" Mark called to him, annoyed. Roger simply waved a hand behind him.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

"Mmm, Marshall....Marsh.......Marshall!"

Marshall pulled his head up from its former track down Mark's chest. "What's up, babes?"

Mark reached down and gently tugged Marshall up by his collar. "Too far." he murmured, kissing the older man's jawline lightly.

Marshall sighed, turning his head to nuzzle down at Mark's throat. "But I was just getting to the good part." he teased.

"Yeah...just...not now."

Sliding his mouth down towards Mark's exposed collarbone, Marshall nipped at it lightly. "When?"

Mark chewed his lower lip. "Soon just...not now...I'm still..." he trailed off softly.

Marshall kissed his way back up to Mark's ear. "I get it, babes. But can't we just..." his hand slid down over Mark's stomach, fingertips dipping past the waistline of Mark's jeans. "mess around a little?" Marshall finally finished, his wandering hand drifting into rough curls and passing lightly over the erection hidden there.

Mark's eyes drifted closed, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Hmm, can't argue with that."

Lips slid down to his throat again as strong fingers wrapped around his member, pumping slowly. Mark suddenly yanked his head and neck to the side, dislodging Marshall's face.

"Marshall, no hickies!" he complained.

"Sorry, sorry." He murmured, sliding only lips and tongue down Mark's chest, deft fingers continuing their pleasurable movement. Mark arched slightly, beginning to pant as he finally found the courage to rub his hand over his boyfriend's clothed erection before slowly popping the button and sliding the zipper down.

LINE

Fourteen and a half minutes later, Mark laid, sated and rather sticky, under half of Marshall's body. The other man was almost too heavy for him, but he was too content and comfortable to move much. Smiling down at him, Marshall placed a quick, playful kiss on Mark's nose before shifting slightly so he was mostly beside Mark.

"Hey boys? You home?" Reye's voice called out.

Marshall groaned. "Love her to death, but Jesus she has some bad timing."

Mark laughed softly. "Bad timing would've been five minutes ago....this is just...inconvenient timing."

Marshall agreed with a smile, kissing Mark for a long moment.

"Marshall? Mark? Helllooow!"

Sighing, Marshall rolled away from Mark and went to the bathroom for a wet towel. Cleaning himself off, he tossed the cloth over at Mark as he searched for his pants, which had disappeared somewhere along the line. Mark wiped his stomach clean before simply pulling his jeans up the very few inches they'd ridden down. How they'd managed that, he had no clue; probably the same way Marshall had managed to keep his shirt on.

Deciding themselves presentable, they finally opened the door to the apartment which they'd barricaded an hour earlier. Mark felt somewhat guilty for messing around on the couch that they all sat on regularly, and also for locking Reye out of her own apartment..._but it was worth it_, he thought with a grin.

"Ew, it smells like sex in here." Reye declared upon walking in, half joking.

Mark turned a deep pink and Marshall had the decency to look sheepish and avert his eyes. "Must be your imagination."

Reye raised her eyebrows at that. "Uh huh, sure...but just in case my imagination is really vivid, I'm washing the couch cushion covers...and this blanket.....and I'm using your quarters to do it."

Marshall laughed. "Fine, m'ija, do whatever you want."

"I always do." she grinned before sidestepping the couch and heading back to her room. "The shower is off limits, by the way. If I ever find out you two had sex in there, someone **will **die."

LINELINELINELINELINE

Roger glanced at his watch for the tenth time: 10:17. Mark had never been the best with time, but it wasn't like him to be _this_ late. Roger's bandmates caught his attention as they tried to get him to help them set up. Roger glanced again at the doorway of the bar.

_Come on, Mark! Where are you? _

LINELINELINE

Mark looked over at the clock on the wall: 9:08. Reye was looking at him expectantly and he sighed.

"I dunno, Reye. I told Roger I'd be there at ten. I can always stop by after his gig."

"Well, what time will that be?"

"Uh...about two-thirty, I guess, once they take down and everything."

"By that time, everyone will be wasted or passed out!" she complained. "Come on, its early yet...just stop by for a minute. You said yourself that this bar is only a few blocks away from Canvas' place, you'll make it."

Mark chewed his lip. He did _want_ to go hang out, and it wasn't like Roger could complain if he was a few minutes later, seeing as he was the one doing the favor. "Yeah, okay. Just for a few minutes."

LINELINELINE

"You guys are on in ten." the bouncer told them. Roger finished checking everything and nodded. Mark still wasn't there, but they had set up all the sound equipment themselves and would just have to perform without a couple of the effects they'd wanted.

_So long as nothing crashes before he gets here, we'll probably be fine. But still...this isn't like him._

LINELINELINE

"Can you really patch sound equipment high? Cause you're like...really high." Tyler asked with a laugh.

Mark smiled lazily. "Sure…I'm good at it…one of the few things I'm good at. I'm sure no one will even notice…s'not like I'm drunk, now that would create some issues."

Tyler shook his head. "Whatever you say, Marky-boy. But you'd best get going, its already 10:35."

Mark nodded, unconcerned. "Yeah, I know…let me just grab a beer and I'll be off."

But the strange thing was, he really didn't feel like going anymore.

LINELINE

"Damn you, Mark." Roger muttered as he watched Gerry mess with the amp and speakers. At around 12:20 there had been a bit of crackling, a loud snap and then the sound had just died. They still couldn't figure out if the amp had shorted or they'd somehow blown both speakers. Either way, unless they got it fixed in a few minutes, their performance was done.

He looked over at the drummer, but Gerry just gave him a helpless expression and shrugged. Sighing, Roger flicked open his zippo and lit yet another cigarette.

_Whatever you're doing, Mark, I hope it was worth it. _He thought scornfully.

LINELINE

Mark laughed, Reye falling against him in her hysterics. Tyler finished his fake lap dance with a bow, leaving a flustered and blushing Jerrod in the chair he'd fatefully chosen. Canvas came over, sitting next to Reye and passing over a blunt laced with heroin.

Mark took it at his turn, watching the craziness in front of him. It had calmed slightly as several people had left or passed out, but parties at Canvas' tended to last all night.

Gina was attempting to breakdance, quite badly, and Lillia had started to throw empty cups at her in jest. Suddenly, Mark felt Reye lean over so he could hear her.

"Hey, its like…two am. Weren't you supposed to do something for Roger tonight?" she asked slurringly.

Mark shrugged. "Oh yeah…guess I missed it…Eh, fuck it. Its only Roger." With that he let Lillia and Gina yank him up to dance.

As he took another hit off the blunt, he somehow forgot to feel guilty.

LINELINELINELINE

PLEASE review! I want to know what you liked, what you disliked, any questions or suggestions you have, etc. I love reviews that are straight-up compliments, but I need input :)

PS: If you have time, I'd love for you to check out this other fic I wrote: Afterthought. Its a bit sad, but I'm a bit sadder because its has no reviews and I actually liked that story quite a bit ^^;

The next chapter takes place the very next day...and might test the edges of the M rating...if I can pull off writing it ;)

Much Love, my beloved readers, Much Love!


	34. Discovered

…I'm sorry. I can really offer no explanation that's good enough to explain ten months without an update…Jesus, that's almost a full year! I really am sorry. I really think its about time this fic was finished, so that's going to be my goal for the remainder of this year.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own my OCs and a giant jug of (fake) blood.

Much thanks to my lovely beta: Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy Shadeslayer

Discovered

Mark winced slightly as he sat up. _Where the fuck am I?_ He looked around as he rubbed the crick in his neck. He was in a bathroom; in the tub, specifically. His back and ass felt wet, and he realized the tub must've had water in it when he'd lain down. Getting up, he was hit with waves of dizziness as the room spun, but he fought through it.

Walking out the door, he discovered that he was at Reye and Marshall's house. Marshall was on the couch, eating cereal and reading the newspaper and Reye was no where to be found.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. How you feeling?" he asked.

Mark frowned. "Okay, aside from a slight hangover...Is there a reason I was in the bathtub?"

Marshall laughed. "Beats me. Reye and you tumbled in at about four. You quickly passed out on the couch, and that's where I left you. Then this morning I found you in the tub...thought it'd be better if I let you sleep it off before moving you."

Mark shook his head, chuckling at himself. "Well, thanks for your consideration." he teased, leaning down to kiss Marshall. He was surprised to find a hand on his shoulder, keeping him back.

"You puked." Marshall explained.

Mark turned red. "Oh...sorry..."

"There's an extra toothbrush under the bathroom sink." Marshall shrugged, going back to his cereal.

Mark nodded, slightly embarrassed, and went back to the bathroom. Under the sink was a handful of cheap, colored toothbrushes, as well as extra towels (appearing to be stolen hotel towels), and single servings of toiletries. He picked a blue toothbrush and brushed his teeth twice.

As he was spitting into the sink, the door opened.

"Here, I brought you some clothes. Figured you'd want to take a shower." Marshall smiled at him, handing him a bundle of clothes and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Marsh. I'll be out in a bit." He'd never stayed the night at their apartment before, always going home to sleep. Then again, he didn't even remember the walk from Canvas' to there, so he was rather glad he had crashed there rather than attempt to find his way back to the loft.

Mark took a quick shower and dressed. Marshall had given him a pair of faded jeans that hung off Mark's hips and a slightly baggy green tee with Spanish writing on it. He'd also thankfully loaned him a clean pair of boxers and socks. Before he walked out, he rinsed his mouth again with some off brand mouth wash.

Walking out to the living room, he found Marshall still on the couch, reading the Village Voice. Leaning down, he kissed him.

"Better?" he teased softly.

Marshall grinned. "Minty fresh, Babes."

Mark collapsed down on the couch next to Marshall, leaning into him. "I feel kinda guilty." he murmured.

Marshall slid his fingers through Mark's hair, stroking absently. "For what, Babes?"

"I was supposed to help Roger and his band last night…instead I let Reye talk me into going to Canvas'. I mean…I know he deserves it, and worse, from me…I really shouldn't care but…"

"He's a bastard who deserves nothing from you…but you still feel guilty?" Marshall asked, slightly confused.

Mark crinkled his nose. Marshall wasn't a huge fan of Roger, which was understandable but it still bothered Mark on some level because Marshall didn't actually _know_ Roger.

"Well…yeah. I just…he told me he needed me…" he paused. "Well, he _almost_ told me he needed me which, in Roger-lingo, means he actually meant it…I'm not used to letting people down." He paused, shrugging as he snuggled closer to Marshall. "It'd be different if something had happened and I couldn't go…but fuck, I could've. I just didn't want to after I…shot up."

Marshall chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mark's brow. "Well, that explains it. You should've known better than that, Babes. Heroin makes you a 100% hedonist. If you don't really want to do something, you're not about to do it while high…but like I said, doesn't matter. You shouldn't have to bend over backwards to do him any favors anyways." He kissed him again. "So cheer up, buttercup."

Sliding one hand around Mark's neck and the other on his hip, he pulled him down onto his lap and kissed him soundly.

The kiss became heated, one of Marshall's hands buried in Mark's damp hair while the other slid up his back, working his shirt off. Mark moaned, sliding his mouth down Marshall's neck. He arched his back, sliding closer as Marshall's hand found its way down the back of Mark's loose jeans, slipping down to cup his ass.

_Huh…wonder if that's why he gave me jeans too big…_

Marshall's other hand was just beginning to move towards Mark's fly when they were interrupted.

"Hijole! Are you guys serious?"

Startled, they both turned to see an annoyed and recently roused Reye standing at the edge of the room.

"Problem, Reye?" Marshall asked, reluctantly pulling his hands to his side and leaning back.

"Hell yeah, there's a problem, Marsh. Ya know, you _do_ have a room!" she snapped.

"So do you, actually…why don't you go back there and come out in say…half an hour?" Marshall teased.

Reye didn't look amused. "You. Are such. A slut! What the hell is the appeal of the living room anyways?"

Mark frowned, unused to seeing Reye angry. "Aren't you the one who always wants us to be together and hassles me for details? Well…here's your details." he laughed.

She rolled her eyes, sliding her hand through her messy curls. "Come on guys, I'm not picky…I think its great you're finally getting to pop the weasel, but are Argentineans so into themselves that they think everyone wants to watch?"

"Excuse me, _pop the weasel?" _Mark asked with a laugh.

They ignored him for the moment. "Okay, Reye, lay off my heritage for a bit. I don't constantly make Mexican jokes. Secondly, how many times have I found you, half naked with someone?"

Reye shrugged, twirling her fingers in her curls. "A couple…" Pause. "Okay, okay, a few more than that. Fine, whatever…but ya know, you have a nice comfy bed in your room… but ya know, do whatever you want, like always." With that she huffed off into the kitchen.

Marshall chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on Mark's collarbone. "She's being a brat…but she _does_ have a point. Care to move to my room?"

Mark smiled, attempting to will the blush from his cheeks and failing, he settled for nodding. Marshall took his hand, leading him to the burgundy door.

Mark had never actually seen the photographer's room before. In all the times Mark had been over there, he'd usually stayed in the living room or kitchen, sometimes venturing to Reye's room.

He looked around Marshall's room in interest. A dozen plastic milk crates were stacked sideways and tied together with twine, serving as shelves for many thick portfolios and a handful of vinyl records. A bookshelf was on the opposite side, solid green in color, and its four shelves were filled with books of various thicknesses. A makeshift easel was set up near the large window, a box of paints and brushes beside it and a just started painting (of what appeared to be a person) was pinned up. A tall, solid black dresser sat beside his bed, the top containing a bunch of random knickknacks. The walls only held a few fliers, photographs and posters. Unlike Reye, Marshall actually had a bed frame and headboard. His bed had green and burgundy sheets and blankets. A clothesline was hung across a corner of the room, a few finished photographs pinned to it. The only clutter in his room was a small pile of dirty clothes in the corner; otherwise it was clean. The one object that surprised him was a small, old television sitting on a small table.

Then his eyes were drawn to a heavy black curtain covering a doorway.

"Is that your darkroom?" he asked as Marshall kissed a path down the back of his neck.

"Mhm." the photographer murmured against his nape. "I had a massive closet, so I just converted it. I'll show you…later." Sliding his hands up his torso, he spun Mark around and gently pushed him down onto the bed.

"Hmmm, yeah. Later is good." Mark muttered, reaching out to slip off Marshall's shirt.

Marshall laid him out beneath him, working a trail of licks, bites and kisses down his chest. Mark moaned, hand twisting in Marshall's hair as his tongue flicked into Mark's navel. Sucking the skin just below his navel, the photographer deftly opened his jeans and slid them down over Mark's hips.

"Marshall? Oh God…" he moaned as Marshall stroked him through his boxers before sliding them down as well.

"Shh, Babes. Don't worry about a thing, just lay back and let me take care of you." Marshall murmured, leisurely pumping Mark's already hard member.

"Mmm, fuck, Marsh…do you have con-oh fuck!" Mark moaned, squirming in pleasure as he was enveloped by a hot, moist cavern.

Marshall smirked around him, thoroughly enjoying the sweet sounds escaping from Mark's throat as took him in deeper.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Are you serious?" Reye asked, attempting to hide her laughter.

Mark turned even more red. "Yes…I mean, I just want some advice. Cause let's just say while he impressed me earlier, I'm a bit embarrassed by my attempt…"

She giggled. "Sweettooth, the walls here are just a touch thin…and I'm pretty sure he thinks you did just fine."

She wasn't sure it was possible, but Mark blushed even more. "Shut it, Miss Reye… but please, just tell me how to do it? Because that was my first time doing…that. And I couldn't exactly do everything he could…or go as far…"

She laughed, but then patted his arm reassuringly. "Okay, first of all, its going to get easier with practice. Secondly, the depth thing…its really about relaxation. It takes a bit, but you gotta practice relaxing your throat muscles and then be able to swallow him…oh, fuck…um, Hi Marshall!"

Mark whipped around so quickly his neck spasmed. Marshall stood just inside the apartment door, eyebrows raised. "Am I interrupting something?" he teased.

Mark winced. "How long were you standing there, Marsh?"

Marshall laughed, coming over and kissing Mark gently. "Not long. I came in right at, 'able to swallow him'… I think I'll just assume you're talking about a man-eating whale and leave it at that." he teased.

"Yeah, Moby _Dick_!" Reye laughed, letting herself fall as Mark shoved her playfully.

"Cochina!" Marshall chastised. "Anyways, Alex had a new shipment in. Supposed to be real primo shit. You guys down?"

"Definitely." Reye grinned.

"Sorry, guys, I have to work tonight." Mark sighed.

"So? There's the phone. Call off." Reye said. Marshall swatted her in disapproval.

"I probably shouldn't…" Mark started, but he was already figuring how many sick days he'd used.

"Just cough a lot. They won't fire you if they think you're actually sick. They can't."

Mark grinned. "Fine, I can afford another sick day."

He called into work and played up a hoarse throat just a bit. Dennis sounded less than pleased, but accepted it.

They shot up, Marshall being careful that they each took less than they normally did.

'it's a stronger batch than normal…let's just go light, this first time.'

They laid around, playing cards and just chatting for a while. Mark was just about ready to go home when Reye came back from answering the phone.

"Tank just called. They're partying over at his house and he was wondering where we were at. I'm gonna go. You guys coming?"

Marshall looked at him in question and Mark smiled, looking up at him through his lashes. "You want to? Por favor, Marsh?"

Marshall laughed. "Si! Vamos."

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark climbed the last few stairs to the loft, weaving slightly. He was still high from shooting up at the party, and the alcohol he'd drank wasn't helping matters. But it was late, so he was hoping against a confrontation with Roger.

He fumbled with the key for a few minutes, giggling slightly to himself as he dropped it for the third time. _Maybe I'm a bit more drunk than I thought…okay, Marky, think sobering thoughts…_ He finally got the door open and practically walked into a certain musician.

Mark pulled back, laughing, distantly noting that Roger did not look happy. "Oops. Hi, Rog." He wandered past, attempting to go to his room but Roger had other ideas.

"Is that seriously all you have to say to me?" Roger demanded angrily, following him.

Mark stopped, turning to look at him in confusion. "Good night?" he tried.

"How about, 'sorry', you asshole? Jesus Christ, Mark, its four in the fucking morning and you didn't even come home last night!" he shouted, pushing into Mark's face. "And it was fucking brilliant how you just left me hanging at the gig. Our system shorted out and we had to stop the performance. So yeah, a fucking 'sorry' would be real great, bastard!"

Mark rolled his eyes, attempting to back away. "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, I guess. Now mind if I go to bed?"

"Yes, I fucking mind! What the hell has been up with you, lately? Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, following Mark.

Mark stared at him, irritated. "Where the hell have _you_ been, Roger?"

"How the fuck does that make any goddamn-"

"And since when have you cared where I go?" he snapped, interrupting him.

Roger turned red. "You son of a bitch. What the fuck is your problem?" he stepped closer. "You really…" he stopped, leaning into Mark's face and then looking him up and down.

"Problem?" Mark asked, snorting a little.

Roger continued to stare for another moment. Suddenly, Roger's eyes went wide and a look of complete shock went over his face. "Mark…are you fucking high?" he demanded, his voice still slightly disbelieving.

Mark laughed harshly. "Wow, you're a bright one."

Suddenly Roger seized Mark's arm and shoved the sleeve up. Roger was silent for a moment, starring down at the exposed track marks. Mark wrenched his arm away, and watched the color drain from Roger's face in amusement.

"What the fuck, Mark?" he breathed, before suddenly he exploded. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" his voice raised to booming shout. "Heroin, Mark? Really, you're fucking doing _heroin_? After me, after Mimi, April…how could you…How long? How long have you been doing fucking heroin?"

Mark looked at him and smirked. "For fucking months." He taunted.

Roger saw red. Grabbing Mark's shoulders, he shoved him into the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you, you dumb fuck?" he screamed.

Mark pushed right back against him. "You! Right now, you're what's wrong with me! Get the fuck out of my face." he turned back towards the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Roger walked after him.

"None of your goddamn business." Mark growled, going for the door.

"Get back here! We're not done!" He snarled, grabbing Mark's arm.

Mark snapped, whipping around he shoved Roger and the surprised musician fell. "Now you fucking care? After months of treating me like shit, _now_ you're gonna start caring?" he shouted, standing over him.

"Well, too goddamn late, Roger. I really don't give a shit what you think, and what I do is none of your fucking business. So stay the fuck out of my life!" With that he stalked out, slamming the loft door.

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

Wow…so I finally got that out, know you guys were waiting for this event for some time. Anyways, upcoming in the next chapter: Mark and Marshall get closer, and a return of Maureen and Joanne (my beta asked me where they disappeared off to, which got me wondering as well lol). Anyways, once again, I am so very sorry for the insane wait. Am working on chapter 35 right now, so I should have it out soon, provided there's not more family drama (my sister in law is having pregnancy issues, my brother is bouncing between work, school, and the hospital, so I'm playing soccer mom).

Let me know what you think, please!


	35. Contemplations and First Times

Hey guys, tried to get a quicker update out this time...not hard to be quicker than 10 months, I guess. Quick question: Am I the only one who thinks its kind've gross that somebody sold the rights of a RENT song to freaking Macy's? Is it just me, or is that kind've really ironic?

So okay, a note about Marshall: It was brought to my attention that his ethnicity changes, so I went back and realized that he is first stated to be Argentinean, then Venezuelan, then back to Argentinean lol. I have no clue how that happened...he was never meant to be anything but Argentinean, so I must've just not been thinking for the Venezuelan part. I changed it, but did it the hard way, rather than just replace the chapter...so I apologize if the chapters were mixed up for anyone. I fixed it all, but I know sometimes it takes a while for changes to show up.

Also, in response to a reviewer: Yep, there's lots of things Mark could've shot up. But I had Roger immediately jump to heroin, just because he has such a history with it and would likely assume H before anything else.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own RENT or any characters therein. I do own my OCs...and not much else.

**WARNING****:** This chapter pushes the limits of the M Rating...it might just be a flat out NC-17. So be warned, there is a rather graphic sex scene below. I will place bolded **** **before the scene gets graphic and after the scene ends, so that if you'd prefer to just skip over the smut, you can easily do so.

Also, this is one of my first smut scenes...ever. So not sure how it turned out...

Much thanks to my beta: Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy Shadeslayer

Contemplations and First Times

Still shaking with anger, Mark tromped down the street. He was still wired from earlier, but he was so unsettled he wanted another hit. He could not believe Roger. For months he had ignored Mark, treated him like crap, and started fights for no reason. For weeks Mark had been staying out late, leaving without telling him, and been withdrawn from his roommate, and Roger hadn't even batted an eye.

_So now, suddenly that he finds out I've been taking H, he's going to pretend to care about me? Well, too goddamn late, Roger...what am I thinking? Roger doesn't care. There's no way that scream fest was out of concern... If he cared about me he wouldn't have treated me like shit for so long...he would've tried to make things right, like they were before Mimi died...he wouldn't have shut me out. _

Mark's fingers twitched and he tugged at his shirt, irritated. _Fuck, I need something...I need a cigarette or something. _Mark passed by a gas station but stubbornly kept walking. He used to smoke when he was younger. He'd quit shortly after coming to New York, not having the money to support the habit, and then started up again after April had died and Roger had been going through withdrawal. He had quit for good when Roger got a little better and they began running short on money.

_Nope, don't need a cig...might want another hit though. God, what the hell is Roger's problem? He wouldn't have acted like this if he cared...he would've been supportive or tried to talk to me about stopping or...something... Fuck this, he doesn't care. He's just using this as another excuse to scream at me...to pick fights with me. That's all it is...well, fuck him. I'll never know what I did to make him hate me so much. _

He paused in his thoughts. _God, I can't believe I yelled at Roger that way...screamed at him even...Fuck, I pushed him!_

He had never done that before; not out of anger. Part of him felt something at that, like guilt, almost. Then he smiled. On the other hand, it had felt **good**, yelling at him like that.

_He doesn't give a fuck about me anyways_.

With that thought, Mark found himself at Marshall's door. He knocked on the door and, after a moment, it swung open.

"Mark? What are you doing here? I thought you went home." Marshall asked, moving to let Mark in. Mark shrugged, scratching at his arm nervously.

"I did…I got into another fight with Roger…" he looked up at Marshall. "He found out."

Marshall wrapped a comforting arm around Mark's shoulders. "I'm guessing he got pretty mad."

Mark nodded, remembering Roger's anger. "Yeah, I don't know why, though. He hasn't cared about me at all in months. He has no right to get involved in my life anymore."

Marshall agreed. "He was probably just surprised, and upset because he assumes you're an addict. He was one, before, didn't you say?"

Mark nodded again. "Yeah, he was really bad though. He got out of control; it became his whole life… But I'm not like that. We have control, right?" He looked up at Marshall, who grinned.

"Of course we do, baby. We're not addicts, we just like to have some fun every once in a while. Some people just have no will power. He doesn't understand it because he had such a bad experience with it. Your case is different." He assured him with a soft kiss.

Mark grinned, leaning into Marshall. "Damn right, its different."

Marshall leaned down and kissed Mark's brow, letting his hand slide down so it wrapped around Mark's waist. Mark looked up at him and they met in a deep kiss, Marshall's hands drifting over Mark's body slowly. Wrapping his arms around Mark, Marshall led him to the couch, pulling him down beside him so close that Mark was partially sitting on Marshall.

Marshall started kissing Mark again, his hot mouth traveling down Mark's neck, sucking at a spot right above his collar bone. Mark pulled at Marshall's neck, mumbling something that sounded like, 'I don't like hickeys, Marsh.' Complying, Marshall retreated from Mark's neck, kissing him again. Mark deepened it, refusing to break apart even when he started running out of air. _I have got to learn how to kiss and breathe through my nose at the same time. _

Finally, Marshall ripped his mouth away, panting as he leaned his forehead against Mark's. "Hey Mark?" he asked quietly.

Mark kissed him in response, humming a soft, 'hmm?' against his lips.

"Can we-I mean, would you like to-do you want to-" he asked between Mark's kisses.

Mark stopped for a second, "Do I want to do what?" he asked, kissing Marshall again.

"Would you like to…have-sex?"

Mark stopped kissing him, pulling back an inch. ""Haven't we done that already?" he asked after a moment.

Marshall blushed, and Mark had to grin at the cute image. "Well, yeah...we've done stuff...but I mean like...sex-sex...Babes, I wanna be inside you."

Mark felt his face flush as he realized what the photographer meant. "Oh! That..."

Marshall grinned, sliding his hand up Mark's shirt as he started kissing down Mark's neck.

"Is Reye home?" Mark suddenly asked.

Marshall glanced off down her hallway. "She's sleeping...and if she isn't, she'll know you're here so she won't bother us." Marshall assured him. "Babes, if you're not ready yet, we can wait for that." He nipped at his collarbone playfully. "Besides, there's plenty more I can do to you."

Mark was silent for another moment before looking at Marshall; Marshall who cared for him, held him, who sometimes kissed him so gently it was like he was afraid Mark would break, and other times kissed him with so much passion Mark was sure he'd combust. Marshall who treated him good...

_He treats me a hell of a lot better than Roger does...cares for me more than Roger ever will...he may even, possibly someday, love me..._

With a swift kiss to his lips, Mark murmured, "I want you...but we should move to your room for this, don't you think?" he added with a mischievous smirk.

Marshall's eyes darkened in lust. "Hell yeah, Babes."

Pulling Mark up, Marshall slid his arms around his body, maintaining their kiss even as he manovered him over to his door. Mark began sucking on his earlobe and Marshall moaned, low in his throat.

"Babes, how am I supposed to get the door open with you doing ah...oh fuck."

"Just get it open!" Mark growled, practically falling in as Marshall finally pushed them through the door, shutting it quickly behind them.

************ GRAPHIC LINE **************

Still kissing, their hands roaming over each other, they tumbled down onto the bed.

"Ow!" Mark cried out, then he laughed.

"What happened?" Marshall asked, concerned.

"You elbowed me!" Mark giggled, gesturing to his side.

"I'm sorry, Babes...lemme kiss it better." he murmured, pulling Mark's shirt off as he slid his mouth down over his side.

Mark's fingers tightened in the photographer's hair, head falling back and breathing harshly as Marshall coated his chest and stomach with bites, licks, and nips. Sliding down his body to suck at his hipbone, Marshall began sliding Mark's corduroys down.

"No fair." Mark teased, pawing at Marshall's shirt. The photographer grinned cheekily, leaning back to pull his tee off and exposing his tan muscles to Mark's greedy hands.

His fingers soon found their way to a dark brown nipple, tweaking it lightly before he leaned up and licked the hard nub. Marshall gasped, eyes suddenly black with hunger as he pinned Mark down against the mattress and deftly removed his pants entirely.

He slid his tongue into Mark's navel, pulling his boxers off at the same time, and loving the gasp Mark made. Licking a path down, Marshall lightly licked the tip of Mark's erection before disappearing.

"What? No!" Mark cried in frustration, hips beginning to thrust up into nothing.

Marshall chuckled, returning a second later with a small bottle in his hand. Mark's eyes widened comically at the sight, and Marshall chuckled again, leaning down to kiss Mark's inner thigh when,

"Fuck! Ow." Marshall cried in surprise, pulling back.

"What happened?"

Marshall suddenly started laughing. "Your, very lovely might I say, dick just stabbed me in the eye."

Mark flushed red for a moment before he, too, burst out laughing. "Holy fuck, I'm sorry!" he said between laughs.

Marshall suddenly grinned, pinning Mark's hips down. "Its fine, Babes...just fine." Mark's back arched slightly as hot, wet lips slid down his shaft.

Eyes closed, he revelled in the sensation when the sound of a cap popping off distracted him.

"Shh...just relax." Marshall murmured, pulling off to kiss his stomach comfortingly before going back to his task.

Mark suddenly felt a slick finger circling his entrance before dipping in lightly.

"You okay?"

Mark nodded. "Fine...keep at it."

Marshall wasn't sure if he meant to keep sucking him or keep stretching him, so he did both, sliding his finger all the way in.

Mark grimaced slightly. It didn't hurt, yet, but the sensation was odd. Marshall worked his finger in and out for a moment before Mark suddenly felt a second finger entering him.

_Okay...that one burns a little_. He tried to relax his body, keeping himself focused on the amazing things Marshall was currently doing with his tongue. He felt the fingers scissor and then a third came in. This time, Marshall had to pause for a second.

"Babes, just relax." he murmured, putting his effort into distracting Mark from the burning stretch in his ass by taking him in deeper in his mouth. Mark was soon gasping again, rocking against the fingers inside him. Marshall grinned around him, crooking his digits until he hit right _there_.

Mark's breath hitched as he gasped in pleasure, eyes whipping open. Marshall pulled off to laugh.

"Like that?" he teased, hitting the spot again.

"Oh, fuck yeah." Mark panted, feeling the bolts of pleasure race up his spine again. Marshall laughed again, languidly continuing to stretch Mark's opening before he pulled his fingers free.

"You ready for the next part?" Marshall whispered, leaning up to kiss Mark.

Mark nodded and leaned up on his elbows, watching Marshall pull his pants and boxers off and begin to coat his erection with lube when he realized something.

"Marsh...don't you have a condom?"

Marshall stopped his movements, frowning. "Oh...fuck. No...sorry, Babes, I don't have any. Its been a long time since I've done this with anyone, so haven't needed any." he paused, looking over at Mark. "Is it a big deal?"

Mark chewed his lip. He'd never had sex without one before...but God, he wanted Marshall so bad right now...but was that worth the risk?

"Yeah, it kind've is." Mark admitted.

Marshall nodded in understanding. "Okay...well, wait here, I'll go see if Reye has any." Climbing off the bed, Marshall hastily pulled on a pair of sweatpants and disappeared down the hall.

He returned a couple minutes later with an expression like his puppy died. "She doesn't have any, Babes." He leaned down, kissing Mark shortly. "Look, I'll be honest with you: I'm clean. I swear, I've been tested before." he paused. "But if its that important to you, I can run down to the drug store on the corner."

Mark frowned. "The drug store doesn't open til seven...its not even six yet."

"...Well, then the 7/11 a few blocks down..." he said thoughtfully.

Mark tried thinking for a moment, but then Marshall was sliding his tongue down his neck, his fingers finding their way back up inside him.

"I'll go if you want." Marshall muttered against his collar bone as his hand did wicked things to Mark's body, making the smaller man shudder and pant. "But Babes, if you're clean...and I'm clean...and its not like you'll get pregnant..." he teased, nipping at his earlobe.

Mark gasped. "Fuck it. I trust you...just fucking do it already."

Marshall laughed against his skin. He slid out of his sweatpants, reslicking himself. Kissing Mark again, he said, "It'll be easier for you, Babes, if you're on all fours."

Mark laughed. "Doggy style? Seriously?" But he turned over at Marshall's urging.

"Don't put it that way, cochino!" Marshall smiled, swatting his side lightly. Positioning himself on his knees behind him, he slowly began pushing into Mark.

Mark winced, his breath hitching. "Shh, Babes...its okay...just relax." Marshall murmured, slowling sliding in, inch by inch. He began rubbing Mark's sides softly, continuing to murmur platitudes until Mark's body began to accept him and he slid home.

Mark gasped at the new feeling of being full, but the burn was already beginning to fade as he focused on the dark noises Marshall made behind him.

Fully inside the smaller man, Marshall leaned forward, kissing the back of Mark's neck. "God, you're so tight, Babes. So good." he whispered heatedly against his nape. "You ready?"

Mark took a breath, nodding. Gripping his hips, Marshall began to slowly thrust, taking his time so Mark could fully adjust. When Mark began to lightly thrust back, Marshall moaned, angling himself to hit Mark's prostate just right.

He reached around, taking Mark's erection and pumping it in time to his thrusts. Mark's breathing became labored, eyes shut and the occassional gasp escaping from his throat as Marshall began to speed up.

Beautiful tension built in the pit of his stomach, exploding into tendrils of pleasure along his spine as Marshall continued to hit that spot. Finally, he came with a breathy whimper, spilling onto the sheets.

Marshall moaned in ecstasy as Mark's body clamped around him, thrusting a few more times before he came inside Mark with an indecent shout.

Sliding out from Mark, Marshall collapsed onto the bed, still panting. Pulling Mark over to him, he slid his arms around his waist and kissed his sweaty brow absently.

********* ****END of Graphicness ******************

"That was fucking awesome." he murmured into Mark's damp locks.

Mark smiled in agreement, then shifted his legs slightly. "Ew." he cringed. Marshall looked down at him in confusion and Mark flushed. "I'm sticky." Mark explained softly.

Marshall laughed. Pulling away from Mark slightly, he found his discarded sweatpants and cleaned them up. "Ya know," he said casually, "I really thought you'd have been louder in bed. If it wasn't for your heavy breathing, I would've thought you'd fallen asleep." he teased slightly.

Mark blushed. "Yeah...I'm just not very vocal. Everyone I've had sex with, and by that I mean four people, has made that complaint. Well, except Nanette; she mainly complained that it was over in three minutes." Marshall laughed and Mark smacked him playfully. "Hey, I was sixteen! I was lucky I didn't come in my pants."

Marshall laughed again, tossing the sweatpants into the corner before pulling Mark back to him. "Its fine, Babes...My first time was when I was fourteen, with this girl named...Marisa, I think. She had the prettiest face, and although she was a little on the heavy side, she had the hips of a goddess... And I'm pretty sure it took me ten minutes to get it up and five minutes for it to be over." he chuckled. "Lots of guys would've been lucky to have her, and I was imagining River Phoenix. Pobrecita."

Mark laughed softly, letting himself be pulled against Marshall's chest before he fell asleep.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"You can stay here. Really, its fine." Reye promised him as she continued to look around the apartment for her nametag.

Mark frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, it'd be too weird with both you and Marshall off at work."

Reye shrugged. "Hell, ya might as well move in. I mean, with Roger being such a dick about the heroin thing, do you really want to go home?"

Mark shook his head, frowning. He'd told Reye all about the fight the night before, and she'd been sympathetic enough to suggest they both take a hit. It was beginning to wear off, now, and Reye had to get to work. Marshall had gone to some shoot a few hours earlier.

"I don't really want to go back...but I shouldn't just move in here." Mark answered slowly.

Reye shrugged, popping her gum as she attached her newly found nametag to her shirt. "I'm pretty sure Marshall would be good with it...actually, I'm positive he'd think it was a brilliant idea." she laughed.

Mark flushed. "Its not that...I don't really know if I'm ready to move in yet... I'll just play it by ear, I guess. I mean, I have to face Roger sometime anyways."

Reye nodded. "V. true, Sweettooth. So, what're you gonna with your day off today, then?" She asked, pulling her worn black Chucks over her hot pink tight-encased feet.

Mark thought a moment then smiled. "Actually, there's a couple people I've been meaning to see for a while. Mind if I use your phone?"

"Help yourself. Anyways, I gotta motor. Lock the door on your way out."

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Marky!"

Mark stumbled backwords as Maureen collided with him, arms wrapping around him in a hug so tight he could barely breathe.

"Hey Maureen." he gasped with a breathy laugh.

Joanne came up, taking Maureen's shoulder and peeling her off the filmmaker. "Honeybear, get off the poor boy. He needs to breathe." But she smiled warmly at Mark and gave him a quick hug. "Hello Mark. How've you been?" she asked as they found a seat.

"Oh, I've been good. Been working over at this little diner on Avenue B. Its shit work but it pays the bills...almost." he laughed.

"That's great, Mark. So is that what you've been spending all your time with, or is there another reason you disappeared for so long?" Maureen asked.

Mark shrugged. "Well...I am kind've seeing someone right now."

"That's great-" Joanne was suddenly cut off by Maureen's excited exclamation.

"Oh my God, Mark, really? Who is she? Do we know her?" she bubbled.

Mark blushed, chuckling nervously. "Well, you probably don't know _him_..."

Maureen gaped for a second, and Joanne's eyes widened but she quickly played it off.

"That's great, Mark. What's he-" she was interrupted again by an actual squeal from Maureen, who seemed to have just processed that information.

"Really, Mark? A guy?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear she began rambling. "Oh my god, you have to tell me everything! I can't believe you're gay now...though I guess that'd explain some things...Wow, but welcome to the club, Marky...We gotta get you a card-"

"Honey, I've told you a dozen times, there aren't any actual cards." Joanne interjected, sounding exasperated already, but Maureen kept going.

"So what's he like? Is he cute? ...No, of course he's cute. So I gotta ask, are you top or bottom? I'm thinking bottom...just cause when _we_ were together, you were always a bit submissive...so how do you prefer to-"

"Maureen, be quiet! Let the boy talk!" Joanne had finally had enough.

Mark just laughed and laughed. He'd forgotten how crazy Maureen got when she was excited. Having never been able to tell anyone but those in Reye and Marshall's group about his relationship with Marshall, Mark suddenly found himself a little excited.

"Okay, his name is Marshall."

LINELINE

Mark laughed, taking Maureen's sketch of the new prop she wanted to build for her next performance. He'd forgotten how much he liked being around the girls. Maureen had pestered him for a million details about Marshall and he'd happily supplied his name, age, heritage, height, features, style, profession, and even a couple details about their relationship, although he'd stubbornly refused to give Maureen any details about his sex life. He'd also carefully left out any details about their parties or the little matter of heroin.

He'd also talked about Reye a little, but thankfully Maureen had been less interested in her so there were much less questions.

"So how's Roger been? We haven't seen him in while." Joanne asked, munching on a fry.

Mark mentally sighed. He'd known the subject of Roger would come up eventually. "He's good. Been spending a lot of time with his band, getting the new members fully updated with everything. I actually don't see him too much, between both our jobs, his band and me spending so much time with Marshall." he carefully mixed truth and lies to sound convincing.

"Oh...so how does Roger feel about Marshall?" Joanne asked, a strangely knowing look in her eyes.

Mark shrugged. "Actually...I haven't exactly told him about him. ...To tell you guys the truth, Roger is still a little distant, has been since Mimi died." _And the understatement of the century goes to..._

"Wow, that sucks. Tell him to suck it up already, its almost been a year." Maureen commented absently.

"Maureen!" Joanne snapped. "I'm sure its still hard on him, Mark. It just takes time. It'll get better... Make sure you tell that boy to not be a stranger. He hasn't called us in almost a month."

Mark nearly choked on his beer. "A month? I didn't know he talked to you that recently."

Maureen nodded. "Oh yeah, he calls us usually ever couple weeks, just to chat...and we go out to dinner or he comes visit sometimes. He always says you're busy, at work or something." she shrugged.

Mark nodded absently, as if he knew all of this. Inside, he was reeling.

They silently finished their food for a few minutes when Mark spied Gina walking in. He grinned, waving at her.

"Hey, I just saw someone and I have to go say hi. I'll be right back." he explained to Maureen and Joanne, not catching Maureen's look towards Gina, as he got up.

He went up to Gina, who was with Jerrod and Amber. They greeted each other warmly, talking for a few minutes. Mark assured them he'd see them this weekend and then said bye so they could find a seat.

Walking back to his table, he found Maureen's eyes glaring at him. He quickly sat down, unsure what the problem was.

"Sorry about that; haven't seen them in a while." he explained hastily.

Maureen glared over at Gina then locked eyes with Mark. "Are you friends with her? With Gina, I mean?"

Mark's eyebrows knitted at Maureen's tone, but he nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I am... you know her or something?"

Maureen's eyes darkened slightly and Joanne placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Fuck yeah, I know her. She used to hang around tent city, proclaiming she was doing performance art and performance protest. Even tried to work with me a couple times. She's fucking crazy."

Mark struggled not to chuckle. "Well, yeah. She's a bit weird, rather adventurous... but she's not a bad person."

"Yeah, Mark, she is." Maureen bit out. "She does things just for attention and is just a psycho."

Mark frowned. "You must not know her very well. She's crazy, but not in a bad way. She's really fun to be around. And excuse me, but you've been accused of doing things just for attention, too."

Maureen was getting pissed, he could tell by her expression. "I know her as well as I'd like, Mark! I worked with her once, and she thought it'd be funny if she set the stage on fire. We barely got it out in time. And she nearly got me arrested once. I'm telling you, that bitch is bad news. I can't believe you're friends with her." She snapped.

Mark felt a stab of anger at Maureen calling Gina a bitch. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm by those things. She's not malicious, just a bit irresponsible. So you guys don't work well together, that doesn't mean she's a bad person or a bad friend."

Maureen's eyes hardened, and she looked determined to prove her point. Leaning forward, she said, "Did you know she's a major drug fiend? Probably not, since I don't think you'd be friends with her if you knew, but Gina does a shit ton of drugs. Mostly amphetamines, but some coke and E, too. She's not immature, she's just too blazed to know what the fuck she's doing most of the time."

He knew she was right: that Gina did a lot of drugs, and when she was high, she could get out of control. He knew that was all true...but he found himself getting angry over the words anyways, part of that because of his own usage.

"Actually, I know about the drugs. Its not like she hides them. And it doesn't make a difference to me. In case you forgot, we've had friends who did drugs before. So the fuck what? She's a good friend to me, and I'm not about to judge her for that. You want to be judgmental? Do it well away from me, because I'm not about to stop being friends with her. So mind your own damn business." He hadn't meant for his voice to come out as harshly as it did, but it was done and he wasn't taking it back.

Maureen's eyes widened, and she appeared simultaneously offended and surprised. Quickly recovering, she launched to her feet. "Fine! I was trying to look out for you, Mark, but if you want to be friends with the psycho bitch, go right on ahead. But I'm out of here." she snapped, walking out without another word to him, although she did pause to flip Gina off.

Joanne sighed, patting Mark on the arm. "I'll calm her down. Honestly, I think you should be careful with this girl...but its your life, Mark." She shook her head slightly. "Take care of yourself, and don't be a stranger. I'll call you once Maureen's not upset anymore, so you guys can talk."

"Thanks, Joanne. I'll see you later." Mark smiled gratefully at her.

Once they left, Mark saw Gina shoot him a questioning look. He shrugged at her with a smile, and walked over to join them when she waved him over.

_Why does it feel like I was living two lives...and now one's beginning to end?_

LINELINELINELINELINE

...shwaa, I think this chapter was a bit intense, lol. Anyways, next chapter's in the final stages so I should update fairly soon. Oh, and one more thing:

Spanish Guide: (I apologize, I should've done this from the first time I started using Spanish here. Growing up with both languages means I sometimes forget random Spanish words can be confusing to ohers, lol.)  
**Cochino** - pervert/pig/dirty mind (slang, roughly translated)  
**Pobrecita** - poor girl/poor thing

[I will henceforth include translations for any Spanish I throw in. Most of it _is_ slang, I do not speak proper Spanish. I mean, I've taken classes to attempt to read/write it, but I learned how my parents/grandparents speak, and that's a mix of Mexican Spanish, Texmex slang, Spanglish, and just informal conversational].

Please review! :D

Much Love,  
Di


	36. I'm Not Angry, I'm Just

Hey Guys. Happy New Year! I tried to make a quick update for you guys. Hope I can make it into a habit.

I hope my, rather graphic, smut scene didn't offend anyone . Since I didn't get a lot of reviews, I don't really know what you guys thought of it. I'd really appreciate more reviews this time around :P

In response to a reviewer, Reye is pronounced 'Ray' like ray gun or sunray, her middle name is Lillia: 'Lee-Lee-Ah', and last name Valdez: 'Val-Dehz'. Any other questions, guys, I'll be happy to answer.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT…or much else.

Reminder: _Italics_ are Mark's thoughts.

Many thanks to my eternally inquisitive beta: Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy Shadeslayer

I'm Not Angry, I'm Just…

Mark stood outside the loft door. He hadn't been home in two days. After the disaster with Maureen, he'd decided that he couldn't handle any more drama right then and so had spent the night at Marshall and Reye's. Not that either of them minded.

_Especially not Marshall...jeez, I'm still tired. That man has some stamina..._

He smiled for a moment before he looked back at the door. _I have to do it sooner or later... might as well get it over with_.

With that thought, he turned the key and walked in.

He winced slightly, expecting Roger to be waiting for him right when he walked in, but there was no one in the main room. He walked in slowly, cautiously, waiting for Roger to rush out at him at any moment. When he didn't, Mark chewed his lip, nervously, and walked around the loft for a few moments.

Roger's bedroom door was shut, and Mark had a strange urge to knock. He quickly shook the urge off, although the idea of getting the confrontation done and over with _was_ a little appealing. Instead, he opted to swipe a banana from the counter and sit with Roger's discarded newspaper on the couch. As he peeled the banana, a sudden thought popped into his head;

_'If you _really_ want to learn how to go deeper, you could always practice. Popsicles work...brainfreezes are a downside...bananas work the best...' _Reye's voice chimed in his head.

He stared at the banana in his hand, slowly moving to take it in his mouth when the absurdity of his actions hit him and he burst out into laughter. The sound of Roger's door opening quieted him immediately.

With strong opposing urges pushing him to both stare at Roger and make a hasty retreat out of the loft, it was sheer iron will that allowed him to simply stare straight at the newspaper and not physically react to Roger's presence.

So concentrated was he on not reacting to the sound of Roger's steps, he jumped nearly a foot when the newspaper was suddenly wrenched out of his hands. He suddenly found himself starring into Roger's furious eyes.

"So the junkie finally returns." He snarled.

"I'm not a junkie." Mark answered defensively.

"You're doing fucking heroin! What the fuck do you think that makes you?" The musician shouted.

Mark felt a flash of heat race up his spine. "So are you the pot or kettle today, Roger?" he snapped.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Mark. I quit. What the fuck is your excuse, you dumbass?" Roger yelled, beginning to pace around the living room. "Or can't you even think through the heroin haze?"

"Actually, I'm sober, idiot." Mark snapped, infinitely glad he hadn't shot up that morning.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Really? Oh, I'm so happy for you, Mark. You're able to go a few hours without it. Wow, I was wrong, you _must_ not be a junkie then." He was dripping sarcasm and Mark resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. "How much do you use, anyways?" Roger suddenly demanded.

"Don't worry about it." Mark dismissed.

"Worry? Oh fuck no, Mark, I'm not _worried_. I'm fucking pissed that I managed to get such a fucking idiot for a roommate! Is this where you've been fucking wasting all our money?"

Mark stood, angry to the point of shaking. "Oh fuck you, Roger. I have a job, goddamnit."

"Big fucking deal, Mark!"

"You know what, I'm not doing this right now, Roger." Mark started towards his room, but Roger followed him.

"Oh yeah, Mark. Run away to your room. That's all you're fucking good for."

Mark laughed harshly. "At least I'm good for something, right? Or am I still worthless?"

Roger gaped for a second before going back on the offense. "A junkie _is_ worthless, and that's all you fucking are right now." He said darkly.

"I told you, I'm not a fucking junkie. I'm not addicted. And its _my_ fucking business. So just leave me the hell alone and I'll leave you alone." Mark bit out before retreating into his room.

"Fine! That's sounds just fucking terrific to me! If you're going to be a moron, I don't want you around anyways!" Roger shouted as Mark slammed his door in his face.

Pissed off beyond words, Mark collapsed on his bed. Then he heard Roger again.

"And just so you know, I took the money out of the loft stash. I'm not paying to support your fucking habit!"

Mark bit back a retort, opting instead to bury his head in his pillow and ignore the continued shouts until they finally ended with Roger slamming his own room door.

Getting up, Mark's hands quickly found his stash. He began to ready a dose when he suddenly thought about Roger's words.

_He thinks I'm addicted...well fuck him, I'm not a fucking junkie._

He regretfully, but with determination, put the powder back into the baggie and shoved it in the back of his top drawer.

LINELINE

Mark stayed in his room for a few hours, just to be safe. When he finally emerged, to take a shower and get ready for work, he found that Roger wasn't home. With immense relief, he quickly got ready and left.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark sighed as he walked into the cafe. Reye's shift was over soon, but he needed to see a friendly face. His day hadn't improved with work. His boss, Dennis, had written him up for cussing out a coworker in front of a customer. He hadn't meant to snap, but damn, that girl, Cassie, was just so idiotic! He hated working with her because he always ended up picking up the slack or correcting her mistakes.

He usually withstood it and tried to be civil to her...but today, he just lost it. Somewhere between "idiotic bitch" and "no clue how you keep this job, being such a moron", his boss had come in. And now he had a write up and a warning that if it happened again, he'd be fired.

He _did_ feel bad about it, now.

_It just...wasn't like me..._

Reye was talking to Lactose when he came in, and both turned to smile at him: Reye beaming and Lydia a shy smile.

"Hey guys."

"Heya Sweettooth!"

"Hi Mark."

"So Sweettooth, I was just telling Lactose that she has to come to the party on Friday. You should talk her into it, for Marshall." She said, using her best manipulative tone.

Mark frowned. "For Marshall?" He asked, confused.

Reye's eyes widened. "Well, yeah...I mean, it _is _his birthday...Holy fuck, you didn't know that!"

Mark shook his head dumbly and then winced when Reye suddenly smacked him upside the head.

"What the hell, Mark? You're his boyfriend...I'm pretty sure birthdays are in the job requirements." She reprimanded, simultaneously chastising and teasing.

Mark shrugged helplessly. "Its not my fault!" he defended. "Its not like anybody actually _told_ me his birth date. How was I supposed to know?"

"No excuses!" Reye shouted, playfully swatting at Mark again.

Mark and Lactose laughed, quickly joined by Reye. "Okay, but seriously Mark, talk her into it! We're having a massive party at Kara's place for him. Kara is even baking him a cake and Tank is making special brownies. Its gonna be great, so we need all his friends to be there. That includes you, Lactose!"

Lydia blushed slightly. "I don't know, Reye...I don't really like parties."

Mark quickly found his cue. "Well, don't do it for the party, Lyd. Do it for Marshall. I know he'd want to be there."

"Well..." Lydia began, looking thoughtful.

"You could always just make an appearance." Reye piped in.

Lydia thought about that and nodded slightly. "Maybe...I'll let you know by then. But anyways, Reye, Mark, I gotta go. I'll see you both later."

Mark watched as Lydia left and went back up to the counter. "Think she'll go?" he asked.

Reye shook her head. "Nah. She's a hard one to get out to parties, just isn't her thing."

Mark nodded in understanding. "Yeah, but at least you tried…But ya know, she has the saddest eyes I have ever seen, and I film homeless people. I imagine you made her tell you her story."

Reye nodded. She looked at Mark. "I imagine you want me to tell you it?" Mark nodded. She shrugged. "Okay. Just so long as you don't tell her I did."

"I won't." Mark agreed.

Reye nodded. "Okay, well Lactose has a rather sad story. She's nineteen and has been living here for about…three years I think. See, what happened was her parents had died when she was real young, and then her older sister got custody of her two years later when she turned eighteen. Lydia was nine at that time. I think that living in the home for two years is what made her so quiet. Anyways, apparently her and her sister were close, like real tightknit, and things were good for a few years. Her sister worked two jobs and they got some financial aid from the state, food stamps and such.

"Then when she was fourteen her sister got diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said she didn't have much time, since they couldn't afford treatment. Her sister wanted to see the world before she died. So they packed up everything they could fit into a station wagon and started traveling across the country. Lactose said her sister got to see Hollywood, the Grand Canyon, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and Chicago, and then a little after they got to New York, Lynne got sick. She didn't make it another month. Lydia was fifteen at the time, and she didn't want to get sent back to a home, so she just stayed here.

"She's trying to be a writer. Last time I checked, her novel was stuck at twelve chapters. And she's never been able to get anyone to publish her short stories...don't know why, I think the girl's got talent."

Mark nodded. "Sometimes things take time. So anyways, Reye...I've had a real shitty day...damnit, I hate it when I rhyme. But anyways, you happen to have any H on you?"

Reye sighed. "Sorry. I'm gonna go see Alex tonight, actually. All I got on my is flea powder. Last time I buy from Tank. His shit is never any good."

Mark groaned. "Damn. I left mine at home, too."

Reye glanced around the empty cafe before shrugging. "Whatever. Come on behind the counter and we'll snort the damn Nixon. I'm telling ya, though, its not bout to do anything but take the edge off."

Mark nodded gratefully. "That's all I need right now."

A little bit later they sat side by side behind the counter, Mark rubbing his nose in irritation every few minutes.

"So how come you didn't tell me Marshall's birthday was coming up?" he asked.

Reye shrugged. "Thought you knew. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No...he never said anything. Wonder why..."

"Well, Marshall doesn't usually make a big deal out of his birthday...but that's why he has me! I always make sure he has a good time. I think it used to annoy him. His first birthday I missed cause he hadn't told me, but I found out shortly after and since then I've made sure he has a party and everything." she paused, looking at Mark, suddenly apologetic. "Ya know, I only found out because I saw his state ID...I guess it was silly of me to think he would've told you."

"Huh. Why do you think that is?" He asked, stretching. Reye had been right, the stuff they'd snorted hadn't been very good. But he was relaxed, at least.

She shrugged again, popping her gum. "Best I can figure, he just doesn't like people fussing over him or spending on him...same reason I practically have to shove my portion of the rent money down his throat every month. He's proud and he doesn't like taking from people. But he deserves a treat every once in a while, so I give it to him whether he wants it or not." she laughed.

"So...what do you think I should get him? I mean...what does a guy get for his boyfriend? I'm in new territory here."

Reye twisted her fingers in her curls, thinking. "Um...flowers...a teddy bear?"

Mark rolled his eyes, shoving her playfully. "I don't think anything _that _sappy."

"Um...a blowjob?"

"You're just not going to be much help, are you?"

"Probably not." she laughed, Mark soon joining her.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark sighed pleasantly as he walked up to the loft. He had gone with Reye to see Alex and, despite the fact that he still had a bit left at home, he'd bought half a gram. He didn't have much of his last paycheck left, but he was okay with that.

He entered the loft. Roger was sitting on the far windowsill, idly strumming his guitar. He looked up at Mark as he walked in. Mark met his eyes for a moment before looking away. Roger silently took in Mark's sluggish movements and distant eyes and instantly felt a white hot streak of anger flash up his spine.

"You're high, aren't you?" he accused.

Mark looked back over to him and smiled languidly. "Yeah...so?"

Roger starred at him for a long moment before he turned back down to his guitar.

Mark shrugged, slightly puzzled by the lack of yelling but too blazed to really care. He wandered to his room, falling asleep to the sound of the soft, halting sound of the guitar.

LINELINELINELINELINE

SO…thoughts? Next chapter is going to have Marshall's birthday bash and a little sadness involving Mark & Roger. OH, and PLEASE review! I really need the motivation to write!

I am requesting ideas from my reviewers for Marshall's birthday present. Like Mark, I'm just a bit clueless what he should get him…I really can't finish the chapter without knowing what to get him…and uh…I have no idea hahaha. So, my lovely readers, ideas?

Much Love


	37. Shopping and Bad Timings

Hey guys. Hope the wait wasn't too long for ya'll . So, it took me so long because this chapter was originally about twice as long (almost 7000 words, about 20 typed pages, so about double the size of my average chapters) but both me and my beta thought it'd be best to split the chapter into two. So here's the first half (its still a touch longer than usual)…I wasn't positive about where to split it, so let me know what you think when you see the second half (which should be out soon, I'm just doing some last minute editing at this point).

Also, thank you to my readers who made suggestions for Marshall's present. I liked all your ideas very much, and had to end up thinking of something random because I couldn't decide.

I do not own RENT or any characters therein. Although if they ever go up for sale, let me know; I'll sell a kidney.

Shopping and Bad Timings

Mark yawned, pushing his cereal around. He wasn't very hungry, but he'd made the attempt. Finally giving it up for a lost cause, he poured the mixture in the trash. Roger looked up at him at the sound.

"Already to that point, are you?" he mocked harshly.

"What are you talking about? I'm just not hungry." Mark answered defensively, crossing his arms.

Roger rolled his eyes. "That's exactly what I mean. Just wait, pretty soon you won't need food at all. Heroin will be your food."

"When did you become so melodramatic?" Mark said, annoyed.

Roger jumped to his feet. "The same time you became so fucking stupid!" he shouted.

Mark sighed. "Fuck this, I'm out." Without giving Roger time to respond, Mark grabbed his camera and left.

LINELINELINE

"You're seriously telling me you don't notice a difference?" Gina demanded.

Mark frowned in thought. "Uh…not really…it's a little darker, right?" He admitted.

"Its more blue!" she exclaimed.

Mark laughed. "Its always been blue!"

She pulled on her bangs. "No, Mark, it hasn't. Before this, it was all turquoise with teal streaks. Now, its all turquoise with royal blue streaks and navy blue bangs. Totally different!"

He crinkled his brow. "I noticed it was darker." he shrugged.

"Wow…Reye's right, you suck as a gay man." Gina teased.

"Hey! Besides, not exclusively gay."

Gina's eyes lit up and she wrapped herself around him, half straddling his leg. "Really? Awesome!"

"Uh, making it hard to walk here, G." Mark laughed as he tried to continue down the street with Gina gripping onto him.

Suddenly her hand dropped to his waistline and he stopped.

"Okay, once again, very flattered Gina, but uh…**no!**" He gently but firmly disentangled her.

"You never let me have any fun!" she whined, but she grinned and they continued on their way.

Finally, they reached a pawn shop. It was the third one they'd been to that day. Mark had originally wanted to bring Reye with him, but the barista had had to work a double today and Mark hadn't wanted to wait until the last minute in case he couldn't find what he was looking for.

They walked in and Gina started jumping around the shop, looking at everything, while Mark went up to the counter.

A rough looking man in his upper thirties stood up to face him.

"Lookin' for something in particular?" he asked Mark.

"Yeah, antique camera. Preferably from the early 1900s."

The guy frowned. "Think you'd have better luck at an antique shop, kid."

Mark sighed. "Me too, actually, but things tend to cost more at those places and I'm not really rolling in cash at the moment."

The guy nodded. "Alright…well you're in luck, kid. I actually got two old cameras you might want." He disappeared for a few minutes, during which time Gina came over to the counter with an old pair of cowboy boots and a faded leather jacket that Mark didn't think was worth buying.

The pawn keeper came back with two old models and set them on the counter. Mark looked them over.

"How much?" he asked.

"Normally, they'd be $225 for this one and $250 for this other one, but you seem like a good kid so how about $200 for the Conley and $225 for the Korona?"

Mark frowned. "The Conley looks like its in better shape…why is it cheaper?"

"The Korona works, the Conley is just for show."

"Does the Conley have all its parts?"

"Most of them."

Mark frowned, making a show of looking the camera over. "I'm thinking about this one…but I mean, it doesn't even have all its parts. I don't really have $200 for that…"

The pawnshop dealer pursed his lips. "I can do $185, but that's really the best I can do. And for that, you're pretty much ripping me off, kid."

Mark inwardly groaned. He didn't really have that much to spare…maybe he could figure out a different gift idea for Marshall…

Gina suddenly came over, sliding her hand over her stomach as if rubbing an inch and slyly slid her top down a couple inches before leaning over the counter slightly.

"You call that a deal? The camera doesn't even work." she teased, pouting at the man ever so slightly.

"Your girl's a bit of a flirt, ain't she?" the guy noted gruffly, but Mark saw his eyes glued to Gina's chest and suddenly understood Gina's idea.

"She's not my girl."

"Yeah, despite my best efforts to turn him, Marky here is living the tinkerbell life. See, that camera there is actually for his boyfriend. Me, I was just so bored, decided to tag along. I get bored…a lot, actually."

Mark had to admit, she was pulling off the sexy pout and bedroom eyes quite convincingly.

The guy smirked at her. "So, you trying to flirt the price down for him, are ya missy?"

She smirked right back at him. "No…was thinking about a trade. How bout you drop down the price a bit, and I'll give you my digits?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Well, I dunno…I suppose I could go down to uh…$175?"

Gina backed up from the counter, stretching her arms over her head and exposing her belly button as she yawned. "Not good enough, you're making me feel so _cheap_! Come on, Cowboy, I know you can do better than that."

"I ain't going lower than $150, girly."

Gina glanced at Mark and he solemnly shook his head. She looked back at the guy shrugged. "Sorry, Cowboy. But ring these up." she tossed the jacket and boots on the table and Mark headed to the door to allow her to negotiate her price down in peace. _I tried at least…now gotta think of something else._

As he was walking out, a wooden easel caught his eye. He went over to check it out. It was a pretty standard easel, a little paint splattered but sturdy. He went to move it when he saw the supplies next to it. There was an organizer filled with tubes of slightly used oil paints, a few brushes of varying sizes, a tin still mostly full of turpentine, a palette and palette knife: both used, and a few unused canvases.

_This is perfect…he already has a workable easel for now…but he doesn't ever actually use canvases, just poster board, so he should like that. _

Leaving the easel there, he grabbed the paint supplies and went back to the counter. "How much for this stuff?" he asked.

The guy, who was currently trying to see down Gina's blouse without her noticing (which Mark knew was pointless because she clearly noticed and was leaning over just to make it easier for the man), turned to the pile and smirked slightly.

"Sixty five bucks."

Mark groaned, "Are you serious? You probably paid less than half that for this stuff."

The guy leered at Gina. "Tell you what, I'll sell all of it to you for twenty-five if girly here goes to dinner with me tonight."

"Deal!" Mark proclaimed, slapping his cash on the table.

"Hey!" Gina cried, shoving him.

"You were going to do it anyways." Mark pointed out.

"Well…yeah. But I would've liked the choice." she pouted slightly. "Oh well. My name's Gina, and I'll meet you here at nine." she told the guy before turning and walking out, Mark hastily stuffing the supplies into a bag the man had given him before following.

"I get off at seven!" the guy called.

"So? You can wait for me. Believe me, baby, I'm worth it." Gina called back as they walked out.

They stood on the street when Mark turned to her.

"Are you really going to go out with him?"

She shrugged. "Probably not…depends how bored I get later."

"But he has your number." Mark pointed out as they started heading back to Gina's.

"True, but my phone was disconnected last week cause I stopped paying the bill. So he can call me all he wants." she laughed.

"You are such a tease." Mark chuckled.

She frowned slightly. "I'm not a tease…I'm a bit of a slut, but not a tease."

Mark rolled his eyes but laughed, giving Gina quick hug that quickly turned into her attempting a grope. After he managed to disentangle himself, he continued to walk her home.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark hung up the phone with a smile. He hadn't planned on shooting up before work, but in the end, he had. And he knew better than to try to work high so it just made sense to call off. He was rapidly losing favor with his boss, but he figured he could deal with that.

Reye smiled over at him. "So, you decide what you're getting Marshall?" she asked.

Mark shrugged. "Yeah…and no, its none of your business."

"You never let me have any fun." she whined playfully.

"I know, I'm just _so_ sorry." he laughed.

"You know, you should get him what I get him every year."

"And what is that, Miss Reye?"

"A coupon book." She grinned, reaching into her purse. Mark watched as she pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and lit one.

"Since when do you smoke, Miss Reye?" he asked.

She glanced at her cigarette and shrugged. "Usually, just once in a while, when I drink or I'm really stressed… but I dunno, just picked up a pack a couple days ago. Plus, they increase your high. …Want one?"

"Yeah, sure."

She handed him one, and he lit it, coughing on the first inhale. "Ugh. Do you _have_ to smoke Reds? They're like trucker cigs." He teased.

She shrugged. "I dunno…everyone always implies they're mega harsh or whatever, but they're what my stepdad and sister used to smoke, so they're the first cigarette I ever tried."

He nodded, inhaling more slowly and exhaling.

"So, a coupon book? I don't get it."

"A _homemade_ coupon book. It has coupons like 'Good for one free hour of Reye shutting up' and 'Worth one night of Reye doing the dishes without whining' and so on. You could make one. It could be a sexy coupon book." she teased.

Mark shook his head with a laugh. "I don't know about that idea…"

"It could be great though. 'Good for one free sexy massage', and 'Give one blowjob, get one free'." she giggled. "Oh, but you **have** to do one that says 'Good for free smoochies'! And it has to say it just like that: **Smoochies**."

He laughed. "Hell no! You're crazy…plus, he'd make fun of me hardcore for that."

She smirked. "Oh hell yeah, he'd make fun of you. He'd make fun of you for like a month…**But** he'd use it! And that's what counts."

Mark thought for a moment then shrugged. "Eh…maybe. I'll think about it." He took another drag from his momentarily forgotten cig.

Reye grinned at him. "Can you French inhale?"

"If I do, I'll cough…but I used to be able to. I was never to blow smoke rings, though."

Reye grinned again, taking a long drag and blowing a couple wobbly smoke rings. "Ha! I win!" she bragged sleepily, laying back so her head was cushioned on Mark's stomach.

Mark lazily ran his hand through her curls, watching the blue-grey smoke curl up from the end of his cig. They talked for a while until Marshall and Kara walked in.

"This place smells like an ashtray." Kara wrinkled her nose.

Marshall nodded in agreement. "Reye, I told you to either go up on the roof or sit on the ledge." he reminded her.

"And cigarette smoke is so damn hard to get out. You're gonna need some major odor eaters." Kara added.

Reye sat up, glaring at Kara. "Don't worry about it, Kara. Its not like you live here…what are you doing here anyways?"

"Reye Alicia Valdez, what the hell has gotten into you?" Marshall snapped.

Mark stared uneasily between the three. Kara was an intelligent and slightly outspoken woman. She was tall with intense, natural red hair that matched her fiery temper. She was known for being an avid drinker, having enough sarcasm and wit for a comedic tour, and for being somewhat of a bitch.

She was also Marshall's best friend. And it was that fact that worried Mark; Reye often assumed Marshall would always take her side over anyone, but Kara was the exception.

Reye's look softened at Marshall's anger. "Nevermind. I'll sit on the ledge from now on." she mumbled, getting to her feet and wandering away.

"Your sister is getting a real attitude problem." Kara noted darkly.

Marshall shook his head. "I'm sorry about that…She's been having mood swings lately; I think its all the partying."

"Well, after _your_ party, the kid can take it easy for a while. Your party's gonna be enough to tire anyone out." Kara grinned.

Mark had stood up by this point and, seeing him, Kara suddenly came over.

"Oh, hey Mark!" she said, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Sorry, didn't see you with all the bitchiness in the room."

"I heard that!" Reye's angry voice came out from her room.

"Not saying anything that isn't true!" Kara called back.

Marshall quickly tried to intervene. "I'm gonna go…think of a valid excuse for distracting Reye while I go talk to her…and I'll come back when I think of it." he gave a quick grin before heading back.

Mark settled into easy conversation with Kara who'd moved to sit next to him on the couch. As much as Kara was _known_ for being a bitch, and she could be, Mark had found out that she could also be an incredibly fun and kind person, and a very loyal friend. She was simply slow to trust and cold to people she didn't know well. It had taken her a long time to warm up to Mark. And her and Reye seemed to alternate regularly between friendship and hatred.

Mark suspected some of their conflict stemmed from jealousy about Marshall, which Mark, in the position of boyfriend rather than friend, was safe from, thankfully; neither of them wanted to be what Mark was to Marshall, but both wanted to be Marshall's strongest platonic relationship. A great example of which was the party, which they seemed to almost be in competition over; a game to see who could add the best element.

Kara paused suddenly, glancing off towards the hallway. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned closer to Mark and lowered her voice.

"So, I'm thinking about getting Marsh a stripper for his party."

Mark choked. Taking a breath, he had to cough for a minute before speaking. "What?"

"Hey, keep your voice down! it's a surprise." Kara hissed with a grin.

"You want to get him a-a stripper?" Mark whispered in disbelief.

"Well…yeah. But I wanted to check with you first, to see if you'd be okay with it."

Mark chewed his lip in thought. "Male or female?"

Kara laughed. "Male, of course! Marsh has no interest in chicks."

Mark frowned. "Then, no…I don't think so. Sorry."

Kara sighed. "I figured you'd say that."

Mark shrugged, but held his ground. He'd seen other guys, and girls for that matter (some of whom _had_ been strippers), all over Maureen when they'd been dating and despite the fact that he really didn't think Marshall would touch and flirt back like Maureen had, just the idea gave him a sour feeling in his stomach.

Marshall came back in after a few minutes, joining Kara and Mark where they sat on the couch.

"You settle the kid down?" Kara asked.

Marshall nodded. "Yeah. Like I said, she's just moody. Don't take it personally, Kara. I know she likes you."

Kara rolled her eyes, but held her tongue.

LINELINELINELINELINE

"Look, I'm sorry. I would come in if I could, but I'm still getting over the flu. I'm probably still contagious." Mark coughed, hoping it didn't sound fake.

He paused, listening to his boss' irritated complaints before he finally consented.

"Okay, thank you. It won't happen again, promise." Mark figured it was a lie, but so long as he stayed on good behavior at work for a while, he'd get away with it.

Mark hung up the phone and smiled in relief. He didn't want to just keep calling off work, but Dennis had scheduled him to work that night and he hadn't been able to find a replacement. He hadn't been about to work the night of Marshall's birthday party.

Picking up the phone, he dialed Marshall's number.

"Hello…Reye?… Oh hey…I'm good…Yeah, I'm excited…Yeah…Yeah, I'm sure Marsh is gonna have fun…Uh huh…Sure, I know which skirt you're talking about…Yeah, I like that skirt…" he laughed. "Well, it _is _a little short, but I think 'slut' is a bit strong…I didn't say that!…No…Look, whatever, if your brother thinks its slutty then don't wear it… Well, if you like it, then wear it…Argh, fuck it! I hate being in the middle. Just let me talk to Marshall.

"Marsh? Hey…Yeah, she was lying…I didn't call you a prude…Yeah, I agree, the skirt is short…Well, she's an adult now…Okay, I'm done! I'm not getting in the middle again!…" he laughed again. "Look, I just wanted to know what time you wanted to get dinner, cause Reye said I have to have you at Kara's by nine….Okay, yeah, seven works…No, you don't have to pick me up…Well, fine. If its on the way. Just call me from the payphone across the street and I'll come down…Okay, go ahead and come up, if you want…Okay…No, we are not fooling around when you get here…I don't care… If Roger's here, that'd just be too damn awkward…Yeah, sorry…Another time, promise, ya perv…Alright, I'll see you then…Bye."

He hung up with a chuckle, shaking his head slowly. He spent the next couple hours editing film and giving his camera a work up. He was planning on filming a bunch of Marshall's party and wanted to finish his second present for the photographer.

"Fuck." Mark grumbled, starring angrily down at his sliced finger. That was the second time he'd slipped and cut himself while working with his equipment.

_My hands are shaking …I guess I just must be nervous about whether Marsh will like his present or not…has to be it…fuck, they're still shaking…_

He got up and went to his dresser, pulling out the second drawer and taking the baggie there. He didn't want to shoot up because he was going to see Marshall in an hour and wanted to be lucid. Smoking took too long so there was too large of a chance of Roger walking in on him _(not that I care what he thinks; just don't want him to try to take it away)_, so he opted to snort a small amount.

_Just enough to settle my nerves; I don't actually want to be high right now._

A few minutes later he was taping the bag to the back of the drawer again, where he used to tape his envelope of emergency money that was now empty, and wiping his nose in irritation.

Glancing down at his watch, he suddenly realized how late it was: 5:57, and hurriedly put his equipment away before rushing into the shower.

LINE

He was attempting to hold his jeans up while simultaneously looking for a belt in his closet when he heard Roger come in. He opted to ignore the musician and grinned as he found a belt by the edge of his bed and threaded it through his belt loops easily.

He walked out to the bathroom, ignoring Roger's eyes on him as he went to look in the mirror.

_Eh, not bad… _

"What are you all jazzed up for?" Roger's snide voice came at him. "Got a date with The Man?" he sneered.

Mark poked his head out of the bathroom. "Go to Hell." he muttered, turning to do a quick adjustment to his hair.

"Believe me, I'm there." Roger murmured.

Mark frowned, having not heard, and poked his head out again. "What'd you say?"

Roger came closer, glaring at him. "I said, I'll see you there. Asswipe."

Mark came out, his own anger rising to the surface. "Oh, by the way, Roger, I saw Maureen and Joanne the other day. Had a real interesting conversation." he watched Roger's expression turn wary with no small degree of satisfaction.

"What, did you tell him how idiotic you've become? How you're a junkie now?" Roger scoffed.

Mark shook his head. "No, actually, talked to them about you. They said they missed you, seeing as they haven't seen you in a _month._" he was shouting by the end. Roger didn't say anything, so he continued. "You've been talking to them this whole time? Hanging out with them? Really, Roger?" he demanded. Alarms in his head were sounding and he knew he was crossing dangerous territory but he couldn't stop himself.

Roger shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, so?"

Mark stared at him for a moment before he had to look away, his voice quieter but somehow more intense as he continued. "So? Roger, I just want to know why."

"Why what?"

Without warning, something inside of Mark slipped free and he found himself unleashing all of the hurt and confusion from the past several months; the emotions he'd learned to shield himself from with heroin he was exposing himself to again, a part of him knowing he'd get hurt and another part not caring.

"Why you stayed friends with them and not with me. Why you were nice when Collins came home. Why you seem to still like all of them…but you hate me." he paused, searching Roger's closed off face.

"Seriously, Rog, I want to know. I _deserve_ to know. Why me? Why do you hate only me? What the fuck did I ever do to you?" his voice was closing on desperate at the end, and Mark suddenly regretted only snorting a very small amount.

Roger stared at him for a long moment, mouth slightly opening as if he couldn't decide what to say. Finally, he took a breath.

"I never once said I hated you." he whispered.

Mark rolled his eyes. "You sure as hell act like it." he snapped.

Roger took a step towards him, slowly. "…Mark, its just…just let me explain-"

They both whipped their heads around at the sound of a knock on the door, Roger with a frown of confusion and Mark with a grin of relief.

He turned away from Roger, hurrying over to the loft door and opening it to find Marshall standing there, smiling at him.

"Hey Babes." Marshall said, leaning in for a chaste greeting kiss.

"Hey yourself." he grinned back.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Mark and Marshall both turned to see a furious Roger glaring at the photographer. Mark resisted the urge to yell.

"Let's go." Mark said, trying to prompt Marshall back to the door.

"You didn't answer me, who the fuck are you?" Roger demanded, coming closer. "And what the fuck are you doing in my place?"

Marshall's face hardened but he stepped forward. "I presume you're Roger, the roommate. I'm Marshall, the boyfriend." he said coolly, holding his arm out but not even flinching when Roger didn't shake his hand.

Roger starred at him for a moment before looking over at a suddenly anxious Mark. "Excuse me, the _what?_" he demanded.

Marshall went to speak again but Mark stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his chest, missing the way Roger's eyes narrowed at the gesture.

"He's my boyfriend, Roger. Sorry you two have never been properly introduced but you've been, you know, a jerk." Mark answered sharply.

Roger didn't speak for a moment, and Mark made use of the silence.

"Marsh, I'm just going to go grab my camera and we can go." he glanced nervously between the two before hurrying to his room.

He was only in his room for a few seconds and was quickly back out to find Roger attacking Marshall.

"So Marshall, was it? So you're the asshole who got Mark addicted to heroin?"

"Mark is not addicted-"

"Like you fucking care. Anything to use him, right?" Roger was shouting now, pushing into Marshall's face with an angry intensity in his eyes that instantly terrified Mark.

"Roger, back off!" Mark yelled, going to Marshall's side.

"You fucking stay out of this, Mark. This is between me and Rico Suave here." Roger growled.

"Actually, we have nothing to discuss. So if you'll kindly back the fuck off, we'll be out of here." Marshall's voice was fury just barely held under pure ice.

"Fine, as if I fucking care." Roger shouted. "Go ahead and get the fuck out" he harshly grabbed Marshall's front and shoved him, hard, towards the door. "You and your junkie fucktoy."

Mark couldn't stop the gasp of shock and hurt that escaped his throat, and he froze for a second, starring at Roger-who wouldn't look at him, icy pain and burning hatred mixed up inside Mark's chest.

He snapped out of it in time to grab Marshall's shoulder, stopping the punch the photographer had been aiming for the musician.

"Forget him…come on, let's just go…please?" he didn't care that he was pleading.

Marshall nodded shortly, sliding an arm around Mark and leading him out. Mark couldn't stop himself from glancing behind them, catching Roger's eyes and seeing a crazy mix of emotions but managing to place hatred, anger, and regret before the loft door slammed shut.

Mark leaned into Marshall. "Mind if we take a hit before we go out to eat? Just a small one…please?" he asked softly.

Marshall dropped a kiss on his brow. "That sounds like a good idea, Babes."

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Please don't hurt me! *shields face with arms*. If you couldn't tell, the second part of the title was in regards to Marshall…please don't hurt him either. I think Roger wants to hurt him enough.

Anyways, please let me know what you think! I know a lot happened in this chapter (can you imagine how intense the original length chapter was? I just **had** to cut it in half lol) but please let me know if you liked how the story's going or not…and why. I love concrit, btw.

The next chapter is almost done, like I said earlier, just some last minute editing. So I'm thinking around a week until the next update. Expect Marshall's party and a little angst in the next chappie.

Much Love


	38. Parties, Presents and Apologies

Hey everyone. So what's a girl gotta do to get a reaction? Lol. I first want to say, thank you to my reviewers. I love reviews...my psyche may even need them, which may be unhealthy...but everyone has problems hahaha. And I LOVE all the compliments, they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside 3. But I have to say, what I really want out of reviews are reactions. I was really hoping that certain parts of last chapter would garner some major reactions from my readers. The parts I thought you guys would react to are:

1. Gina... I love writing Gina. She reminds me of a crazy, hypersexual, intense friend of mine who pisses me off as much as she amuses me. But I have no clue what you guys think of Gina lol.  
2. The Smoochies coupon book and the stripper. I really do try to put as much cute into this as I put drama.  
3. "Go to Hell." "Believe me, I'm there." ...Really? Nothing on that?  
4. Marshall walking in right when Roger was perhaps about to say...something. I was expecting at least one reviewer wanting to hurt Marsh for that lol.  
5. "junkie fucktoy." ...Again, really? That line hurt *me*.

I know I have readers because I have like 125 ppl on alert and like 50 who faved this. And I love you all for that. But I really have no clue what you guys are thinking if you don't review... and I'm just that kind of person who needs feedback. Sorry if that makes me needy, but that's just me. 3

Anyways...

In response to a reviewer: Is Mark an addict? ...well, I'm not going to explicitly answer that, ever actually, in the story...but what do you think?

RENT not mine.

Double thanks to my lovely beta: Ms Mimi Elphie-Amy

Quick note, for the first time, I wrote the dialogue of people as they would sound while less than sober…so I apologize if you have any trouble understanding the dialogue. You should be able to get it if you just read it outloud.

Also, _italics_ are Mark's thoughts, but a ~~_italic text~~_ is a flashback.

Parties, Presents, and Apologies

Mark laughed, growing dizzy as Marshall and him kept spinning. Finally, he lost his balance, beginning to fall backwards before Marshall scooped him up against his chest. Mark giggled drunkenly as they fell back against the couch amidst cheers and laughter.

"Smile!" Reye shouted, appearing out of nowhere to take a photo with Marshall's camera.

"Hey, pumy camraway. You're too wasted tabe handli nit." Marshall slurred up at her and she pouted slightly before going to take more photos.

Mark's head felt heavy. Marshall was always there to prevent him and Reye from doing anything silly, like mix heroin and lots of alcohol or go home with someone they didn't know(that one was exclusively for Reye since Mark never tried), or mix heroin with other drugs (excluding weed). But since it was Marshall's party, Kara, Mark and Reye had started working to get Marshall wasted from the second he walked in the door. And it had worked.

So Mark had been a little bad; he'd drank quite a bit and had been smoking H laced blunts. Reye had been worse, drinking, doing a little heroin, smoking weed and cigarettes, and doing a quick line or two of coke. Mark had been a little worried about her at first, but had soon reached that point where he forgot to care.

"Mmm, Marsh, that tickles." Mark giggled, pulling at Marsh, whose face was buried in his neck, weakly.

Marshall pulled his head up with a grin. "You'ave frostin' anyou neck." He said, acting as if he was confiding a big secret.

Mark laughed, leaning his head to the side to allow Marshall access to lick at his throat. Suddenly, Reye appeared again, this time with Mark's camera. Mark looked up to say something to her and laughed again; Reye still had cake and frosting matted in her hair.

Kara's attempt to cut Marshall's cake, after he'd blown out the candles, had turned into her trying to keep it away from Gina and Reye who had been reaching for it. And that had somehow turned into Reye tackling Kara and Gina seizing the cake and attempting to run off with it while stuffing a handful into her mouth. Kara had managed to push Reye off and ran after Gina, only to get hit in the face with a handful of frosting. By this time, Mark and Marshall, as well as the rest of the party, had been roaring in laughter.

"You think this is funny?" Kara had demanded and, grabbing a handful of cake, she had lunged at Marshall, smashing the cake in his face.

Not missing a beat, Marshall had seized Mark's face and kissed him, smearing the cake over Mark's face and sharing the dessert between their mouths. After that, an epic cake fight had ensued, leaving most of the party guests still finding frosting or cake crumbs on their bodies.

Mark winced, absently noting a pain where his throat met shoulder that meant Marshall had bit him. He automatically went to complain, but decided, _Its his birthday, I'll let him have one free night of hickeys_, and let it go.

The rest of the party progressed in a series of lucid moments surrounded by lengths of blur.

LINE

Mark looked up from where he was leaning against a wall, talking to Tyler (although he couldn't remember what about…), because he could hear Reye crying. He looked over and Reye and Kara were standing in a tight embrace, both wobbling and barely supporting each other, and Reye was sobbing:

"I'm sucha bitch! I'm so mean to you!"

"No, no. I never leave you alone! _I'm _the bitch!" Kara declared.

Suddenly Reye pulled away, wiped her face and grinned a watery, wasted grin. "Kara, I love you! You such a good friend!"

"No, no I'm not! **You're** the good friend!"

"No, I mean it! You just…you're just such a fucking good person! And you're such a good friend to my brother! I'm so sorry we fought, cause I love you, and we're friends!"

Mark chuckled to himself as he watched their conversation continue in the same fashion.

LINE

Mark fell back against the couch, coughing slightly as he held up the laced blunt for someone to take.

"Hey Marky, you better watch out, some kid is flirting with your man." Shauna said, pointing over to where Marshall leaned against a wall with a young, blonde man leaning into his space.

A hot flash of jealousy raced him Mark's spine as he staggered to his feet and clumsily ambled over to the duo. The blonde kid rested an arm against the wall, further leaning into the oblivious Marshall's face as Mark came up.

"Marsh! I've been lookin' everywhere forya!" Mark exclaimed, sliding between the two guys and placing a smoldering kiss on Marshall's lips.

"Babes!" Marshall grinned, wrapping both his arms around Mark's waist. "Hey, Babes…Babes…this is…this guy…this is mahnew frien'…" he trailed off. "Hey kid, whawuz you name 'gain?"

The kid looked between the two and scowled slightly. "Ryan…So is he like your boyfriend or something?"

"Yeah, thaz his boyfriend. And they're v. close. Like, exclusiff." Mark looked over to see an angry looking Reye glaring at the kid. "Whoda fuck are you, emyways? Don' 'member 'viting' you."

Ryan gained an angry look to his eyes and Mark tried to watch the interaction as Marshall ignored it all and contented himself with sucking on his earlobe.

"I'm a friend of Gina's. Who are you?" he snapped.

Reye stepped forward, eyes blazing. "I'm da chick whoza bout ta kickyur ass." She took another step towards him when Tyler and Shauna appeared, Lillia trailing behind them.

"Hey, hey, calm down, girl. We'll take him outta here." Tyler said.

"No! He wuz hittin' on mah brotha. He wuz bein' mean ta Sweettoof. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass!" she turned to Ryan. "Ya dunno who you're dealin' wit, I'm gonna kick yur fuckin' ass!" she yelled.

The kid simply stared at her, wide-eyed, until Tyler and Shauna flanked him on either side and led him away and Marshall grabbed Reye's arm, pulling her against him and Mark.

"Calmate, m'ija." he said gently.

She shook her head and stared up at him. "But I could kick his ass, Marsh! I swear, I wuz gonna kick his fuckin' ass!"

"I know, I know, m'ija, pero is _my_ birfday. Yucan beat someone upat your birfday."

"You think I coulda kicked his ass, right, Sweettooff?" she demanded.

Mark laughed. "A course, Miss Reye. And I wuz almos' bout to help ya."

"Why were ya'll so mad at da kid, amywayz? He wuz nice…I think." Marshall muttered, sounding honestly confused.

Reye continued to huff while Mark just laughed, leaning up to kiss the photographer again.

LINELINELINELINE

"Oh…um…sorry." Kara stammered.

Mark lifted his head up, wincing as his temples pounded. "Huh? Sorry for what?"

"Uh…you're kinda naked…with Marshall…in my bed. Hey, why the fuck am _I_ apologizing? Did you two seriously have sex in my bed?"

Mark's eyes flew open and he was suddenly very aware of his current state. Marshall was still passed out, his arm wrapped around Mark's waist and their legs intertwined. A sheet was draped partially over them, but Mark was mostly exposed. With a quick jerk, Mark pulled the sheet to cover their shame before he looked back at a slightly amused and slightly annoyed Kara.

"Uh…maybe?"

She sighed. "Well…I'll just have to wash my sheets later. You guys are still better than Reye. She hooked up with Amber _and_ Andrew in my bathroom…"

"Damn, you go, Reye." Mark laughed, shifting so he could sit up without waking Marshall and still remaining covered. "Did everyone else go home?"

"Tyler and Lillia crashed on the couch, Reye, Amber and Andrew all slept in the bathroom, and Shauna, Anita and Joey stayed in the guest room with me. Everyone else found their way home last night. Anita, Tyler, Lillia, and Amber went home this morning." she listed off.

Mark nodded sleepily. "Ugh, I've got major cottonmouth…and I keep getting random flashes of last night along with random throbbing in my skull…you got any painkillers?"

"Over the counter or stronger?"

"Anything."

Kara smiled. "I'll get you some Tylenol…and you work on the whole clothes thing."

LINELINELINELINE

"Happy Birthday, Marsh!" Reye and Mark yelled, each handing him their own bags.

"Thanks, guys." Marshall grinned. He picked up the large brown paper sack Reye had handed him and opened it. With a grin he pulled out a stack of small stapled papers. "A new coupon book, terrific! I already know which one I'm going to use first."

"Uh, just so you know, Marsh, I'm **way** too hungover to be cleaning today."

He laughed, leering at Mark slightly as he answered, "I was thinking more along the lines of the one that says you'll leave the apartment for at least an hour, no questions asked."

Reye laughed. "Oh, okay, no prob. I actually put a few of those in this book…but all of them have the proviso that there is no shower sex. Ever."

Mark and Marshall laughed at the serious look on her face, but then both quickly dropped their smiles at her glare. "Okay." "Agreed."

Marshall turned back to the bag and pulled out a black camera bag that appeared to be secondhand but in excellent condition. "Thanks, hermana; I needed one of these since my strap broke last week." He grinned, opening the bag. "Wow, m'ija, this is nice." Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek.

Placing her present aside, Marshall picked up the plastic bag from Mark. Each item inside was wrapped with old newspaper. He slowly unwrapped the painting supplies, a grin building. "Wow. Thanks so much, Babes. This stuff is great. But you shouldn't have done this…This stuff is for professionals, I just like to goof around with painting." He said sheepishly, but his grin stayed in place.

"Marsh, you forget, I've seen your paintings. They're good. You need to paint more." Mark answered, kissing Marshall on the corner of his mouth.

Marshall just smiled, unwrapping the last item: a reel of film. "What's this?"

Mark blushed. "Its us. All three of us. Just some of my favorite moments I got on film… Its corny, I know…"

"No! I love it…can we watch it?"

Mark blushed but nodded. "Sure, I have my projector here. I just need a white sheet to hang up."

Reye helped Mark find a white sheet and hang it up while Marshall cooked them dinner. Then they settled down with their meatless spaghetti and watched the film. Reye made loud commentary whenever she came onscreen, and Marshall just smiled and stayed silent, pulling Mark to sit between on his lap when they'd finished eating.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark smiled as he kiss Marshall goodbye. He had stayed over for two nights at Reye and Marshall's(and they had used two of Reye's coupons, to her slight annoyance). He was still upset with Roger, but he couldn't put off going home forever.

Mark walked into the loft. He paused in his step at the sight of Roger asleep on the couch. He hadn't seen Roger asleep in quite a while. A part of him felt like giving the musician a rude awakening, but he just didn't have the heart to go through with it. Instead, he tiptoed over, watching his sleeping face.

_He looks so…peaceful. And young. God, I haven't seen him like this in ages. Its like all that anger…all that hatred between us, doesn't exist. _

Mark watched him for a few more minutes, quietly taking in the gentle snores and soft rise of his chest. Suddenly, Mark felt a singe of intense pain hit him, a sharp cold clutching his chest.

_It was never supposed to be like this. How the hell did we get like this? How did we get bonded into such hatred? Such…anger between us? I just…don't understand how we ended up like this…_

_~~ "Come on, be a man and chug it already!" Roger teased. Mark rolled his eyes but tipped up the bottle of vodka, taking a long draft. _

"_Damn, you're really good at sucking. Give blow jobs much?" _

_Mark choked, sputtering and spitting slightly. He lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth with a laugh. "Fucking perv." _

_Roger laughed, shoving at him playfully. "Just making an observation, Marky." _

_Roger grabbed the abandoned bottle, taking a long draft before sliding back against the couch. Mark made a clumsy grab for the bottle, squinting in his drunkenness. Roger pulled it away jokingly before grabbing Mark's arm and pulling him down onto the couch against him. _

_Mark giggled, making another grab for the bottle and beaming when Roger handed it over. _

"_I've been thinking, man." Roger said with the clarity of a thoroughly intoxicated man. "About Mimi. I've been thinking…bout Mimi…"_

_Mark swallowed, lowering the bottle to look over at his wasted friend. "Okay…and?" _

_Roger frowned in thought. "Uh…oh yeah, Mimi! Yeah, I've been thinking…and I think I love her…No, I mean, I __**know**__ I love her!" _

_Mark snorted with laughter, taking another drink. "No shit, Sherlock!" _

_Roger shoved at him, seizing the bottle back. "No! I mean, I really love her! Like really, really, really love her." he grinned, taking a sloppy drink. _

_Mark rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I get it, Rog. You really, really, __**really**__ fucking love her." _

"_Well…yeah! But so, I've been thinking…I think I wanna marry her." _

_Mark sat up, or tried to. "Really?" he asked in surprise. _

_Roger nodded earnestly, smirking slightly when Mark failed in his attempt to fully sit up and slid into him drunkenly. "Yeah! I really think I do…but yeah, um, I want to ask you something…" _

_Mark squinted up at him. "Ask away."_

_Roger threw an arm around him, pulling him closer. "You're like…my best friend. Like seriously, like…my fucking best friend…so, if I marry Mimi…I want you to be my best man!" he was beginning to slur hard core but Mark managed to understand him well enough. _

_Mark stared at him stunned for a moment before beaming. "Really?" _

_Roger giggled drunkenly but grinned. "Hell yeah, man! You just gotta be my best man cause…cause you're the best, man! See how that works? You be the best man cause you're the fucking best, man." he laughed again and hugged Mark with one arm. _

_Mark grinned. "Well, of course I'll be your best man, Rog! But you gotta be mine, too!" _

_Roger grinned. "Sure…I mean, if you ever find a girl desperate enough to marry you." he teased. _

"_Asshole!" Mark snapped, shoving at Roger before taking the bottle back. _

"_I'm just joking, Mark…You'll find someone who'll love geeky-Marky." _

_Mark watched as Roger began to swim in and out of focus, the alcohol fully hitting his blood stream. "Promise?" he slurred. _

_Roger ruffled his hair. "Promise." _

"_Roger? Are you trying to cheat on me with Mark again?" _

_They both looked up to see Mimi standing in the loft doorway, starring down at them in amusement. _

"_Mimi! I was just telling Mark how much I looove you. Did I tell you that? Cause I really, really love you." Roger crooned. _

_Mimi chuckled. "Well, why don't you come downstairs and show me how much?" _

_Roger blinked. "Wait…what? Downstairs? But…I'm hanging out with Mark tonight… Hey, can Mark come with us?" _

_Mimi sighed, exasperated by her wasted boyfriend. "Love, I really don't think you understand. I mean, unless you __**want**__ Mark to have sex with us…cause actually…"_

_Roger frowned again before understanding suddenly hit him. "Oh! Oh, sorry Marky. You can't come!" _

"_Thank God." Mark muttered. He looked up. "Uh, no offense…kinda." _

_Mimi laughed. _

_Roger shook his head, staggering to his feet he grinned down at Mark. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Marky…and remember what I said! You gave me your word so I'll hold ya to it, best man!" _

_Mark grinned up at him. "A course…But in case I black out, just remind me about it in the morning." He watched Roger wobble over to the door, Mimi eventually having to go and help him out before Mark passed out on the couch.~~_

Mark continued to stare down at Roger as the memory circled in his mind.

_He's right fucking here…and I can't believe how much I miss him_. _How did we get this far apart? He's right here…and I feel like I've lost him forever. _

"Roger?" Mark whispered. He watched his sleeping roommate carefully, but Roger didn't stir. "Roger…I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened to us. I just…hate that we ended up like this. I'm sorry that we're not friends anymore."

He stopped, choking as his throat grew thick. He suddenly had to get away. He couldn't handle the pain of remembering.

Leaving Roger asleep on the couch, Mark hastily went into his room and prepared a strong hit of heroin. He tried not to think as he tied off a tourniquet and injected himself.

He shut his eyes, falling back against his bed as he waited for the beautiful, pain-erasing bliss of the drug to hit.

_It just wasn't meant to be this way…_

LINELINELINELINELINE

Okay…so what'd you guys think? I know the mood was a little all over the place…but I kinda wanted a bit of ups and downs. Also, thanks to guitarjunkie, whom I got the camera case idea from, Ms Mimi Elphie-Amy whom I got the reel idea from, and Perry who gave me the antique camera idea.

Spanish Guide:

**Calmate** – calm down (literally: calm yourself)  
**M'ija **– affectionate term for a female, usually a girl who is younger than you and a family member, but not always (literally: my daughter/my little girl)  
**Pero** – but (could be used for however, I guess)  
**Hermana** – sister

Next chapter expect a standoff between Mark and Roger and a dash of Marshall/Mark fluff.

Please review! :) 3

Much Love  
Di


	39. Hot Spots, Cold Spots, and Sore Spots

Hey guys. So…a great deal of this chapter was not my idea…it wasn't in the original plan. But my muse took control of my body and this is the result. And…I'm a little iffy on it, just because I wasn't planning on anything like this happening so soon, but she (currently a she, she changes genders often…a feature rather common for people who live in your mind) was quite adamant so I'm just going with it haha.

I do not own RENT.

Important: _Italics _are usually Mark's thoughts. The **last scene** of this chapter is in Roger's POV (well, its always 3rd, so maybe just perspective?) so know that in **that** scene, _Italics_ are **Roger's** thoughts.

Hot Spots, Cold Spots, and Sore Spots

Mark yawned, wandering out into the general area of the loft. The sound of the guitar that had been ringing through the loft suddenly stopped. He glanced over to see Roger looking at him.

"Hey." He said, not in the mood to fight with his roommate.

"You sober?" Roger asked roughly.

Mark bit back the urge to make a sarcastic or harsh response. "Yeah."

Roger looked at him for a moment, as if he didn't quite believe him before he moved from the window to the couch. "Sit down." It really wasn't a request.

_Make me_. Mark thought childishly, but he found himself going to sit at the opposite side of the couch as the musician. _Maybe I can find a way to stay civil…for old times' sake. _

They didn't say anything for a moment and Mark was about to get up when Roger looked at him. "So…is Rico Suave your dealer?" he asked, barely hiding his contempt.

Mark rolled his eyes. "His name is Marshall."

"Fine, is _Marshall_ your dealer?" Roger spat his name like an oath.

"No, actually." Mark answered, tone patronizing.

"So, how'd you meet him?" Mark could tell Roger was struggling to stay calm and resisted mocking him.

"He's Reye's brother."

Roger frowned for a second before recognition dawned on his face. "Reye, the café barista you're not fucking?"

Mark nodded.

"So…now you're gay? I knew heroin changes people, but goddamn Mark, you're just running for junkie Jekyll & Hyde of the year, aren't you?" he mocked.

Mark felt anger build up in his blood but remained calm out of sheer force of will. "I don't believe in sexuality." He lied, using Reye's line.

Roger frowned again. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

Mark smirked. "I believe people fall in love with people, not their genitalia." He knew he didn't actually believe Reye's theory, but he didn't feel like defending his sexuality to Roger.

Roger starred at him for a moment before he sneered. "So you _fell in love_ with Marshall?"

Mark opened his mouth but no sound came out. He struggled to come up with an answer, but couldn't bring himself to say either option to Roger. After a moment of silence he finally opted to glare at the musician. "That's really none of your business."

Roger matched his glare. "Like I fucking care."

Mark stood. "Fine, if you don't care, then I'll stop this disturbing charade of a conversation and just go."

"Need a hit already?" Roger mocked.

"Why don't you just fuck off and mind your own business, Roger." Mark gave up his attempt to be nice and turned to leave.

"Because I want you to stop this." Roger suddenly yelled, getting to his feet.

Startled, Mark turned to face him. "Why?" he challenged.

Roger opened his mouth then shut it before opening it again. "Whatever problems we have, Mark, I still don't like that you're doing heroin. Fucking can't stand it, actually. I want you to stop."

_This is weird…he's never asked me to stop before…I didn't know he actually…_cared_… He can't…so why is he pretending to __**now**__? _

"You don't care about me, Roger, you've made that perfectly clear over the last few months. So don't pretend to. You're just pissed that I went out and got my own life instead of moping around the loft every day like you." He said harshly.

"Yeah, you went out and got a heroin addiction, an asshole _boyfriend_ and a bunch of junkie friends. That's quite a life, Cohen." He sneered. "I am so jealous."

"Maybe you are!" Mark heard his voice raising but couldn't stop. "Maybe you actually _are_ jealous that instead of waiting around for one of your good days, instead of constantly begging for scraps of your attention, instead of being there for you to lean on and push around, I fucking **finally** figured out that I didn't need you. You fucking hear that, Roger? I don't care about you and I don't need you anymore!"

Mark watched Roger's mouth open without sound, his eyes flashing with numerous emotions but before he could wonder whether that was actual hurt in the musician's eyes, Roger came closer. "Maybe you don't care about me…but what about Collins? What about Maureen? Or Joanne? You care about them?" he asked darkly.

"Of course." Mark snapped back.

"So what do you think they'll think of little Marky shooting up? Huh? Did _that_ come up in your little talk with the girls? Did you tell Collins about it during his last phone call? Huh?" he demanded, eyes flashing in challenge and an unspoken threat.

Mark felt his chest go cold. "You wouldn't." he breathed.

Roger smirked, feeling the power of the conversation finally go back on his side. "I would. I'll tell all of them if you don't quit."

"You have no fucking right!" Mark shouted, shoving into Roger's face. "What is your problem? I'm not addicted, I swear!"

Roger's eyes softened slightly but his voice remained harsh. "I'll do it. Just a fucking phone call away, Marky, for everyone to know your dirty little secret. You don't want me to? Just stop using. If you're not a junkie, it should be easy."

Mark breath came in harsh pants as he glared at Roger. "Whatever, fine! I'll stop! You happy, asshole?" he finally bit out, pushing away from the musician and walking back to his room.

"I want your stash."

Mark turned.

"I mean, its not as if I don't trust your word or anything…no, wait, its totally that I don't fucking trust you."

Mark gaped for a second before he nodded. "Let me think about it."

"You're not leaving the loft, either."

"What? You can't fucking keep me here like a goddamn prisoner!" Mark shouted, finally losing it.

"Well, what's the good of taking your stash if you can just go get more from the Man or your lover boy and his junkie sister?" Roger demanded.

Mark stayed silent for a moment before saying softly, "I have to work today."

"I'll walk you there." Roger answered simply.

"Fine! Fucking whatever, if it gets you off my back, you can walk me to work." Mark conceded, not seeing any other option.

"And I'll be there to pick you up when you're off."

Mark flipped him off as he went into his room.

LINE

Mark looked over at Roger's closed bedroom door, heart pounding as he searched through the cupboard. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck…gotta make this work, I gotta make this work… Goddamn, I'm so fucking wired…I really need—no, want—I really want a hit. Fucking Roger and his idiotic ideas of 'helping' me. I don't need help, I just need him to get the fuck away from me_. He found what he was looking for and quickly pocketed it.

He mentally made sure he had everything he needed and then went back to his room, shutting the door tightly.

As he looked around his room he smiled slightly. He made a quick line on his dresser, snorting it and licking the residue, before stuffing the wax paper envelope under his mattress. _Even if he… well, he'll never be able to get it all._

LINELINE

"Here, asshole. Happy?" Mark snapped, dropping a small paper baggie in front of Roger.

"Where's the rest of it?"

Mark stared at him incredulously. "What makes you think that isn't it?"

"Ex-junkie here. I'm not a moron. I know you have more stashed somewhere, so where is it?"

Mark rolled his eyes before going back into his room, followed closely by Roger. "Get the fuck out." Mark growled.

"No. Show me the rest. Now. Remember, only a phone call away." Roger's tone left no room for argument.

Gritting his teeth in anger, Mark pulled open his top drawer, taking the small paper bag from the corner. Then he went to his closet, pulled out a pair of his dress shoes and pulled the small paper envelope from where he had stuffed it in the toe. He flicked it at Roger who caught it easily.

"There. That's it."

"No, its not. Where's the emergency stash, Mark? Where's the syringe and spoon?"

Mark glared at him before going to his crate where he stored his reels of film. Near the bottom was a small canvas bag that held his syringes and chasing supplies. On the way up, he slid an unseen hand under the mattress. Walking over, he deposited the canvas bag and another baggie in Roger's waiting hand.

"You're such a prick." He muttered, walking past him. "So, you going to walk me to work or not?"

LINE

"I'll be here at eight." Roger said, walking out of the restaurant.

"That your boyfriend?" Rachel asked, motioning to the retreating figure.

"Don't insult me. That's my idiot roommate." He answered, tying his apron on.

"So, Dennis isn't real happy with you." Rachel said conversationally.

"I don't care. At this point, I'm getting used to getting chewed out… Besides, if this place doesn't work out, I think I might go into theatre. Turns out, I'm real good at acting." He smirked.

LINELINELINELINELINE

Mark glanced around nervously. He didn't see anyone so felt safe to exit. He kept looking around himself as he hurried out of the back alley behind Eat'ems. It was only 7:15. He'd managed to get out of work early because it was slow, but he wasn't sure if Roger was going to be early or not.

_God…I'm taking such a risk here. I hope he doesn't say anything, but I can't let him control me. I can't let him lock me away…fuck the consequences._

He slipped out the back end of the alley and quickly made his way to Marshall and Reye's apartment.

LINELINELINELINELINE

The fan whipped around on the floor. _That's going to cut someone's feet off when they walk by. _Mark thought thickly before laughing when he remembered that no one was going to walk by the fan since it was really on the ceiling. He watched Marshall walk upside down towards him before leaning down and kissing him gently.

"How are you comfortable sitting like that?" he asked with a laugh.

Mark shrugged. "I could sleep like this. I'm actually pretty comfortable in any position, I can fall asleep on any piece of furniture ya got." He explained. Marshall just chuckled and sat beside him, right side up.

Mark was upside down on the couch with his back against the seat, his legs against the back of the couch, and his head hanging off. He was recovering from a light high and still slightly loopy from it. He smiled when he felt Marshall's fingers gently grazing his neck, stroking him from chin to the hollow of his throat. His touch became lighter, tickling, and Mark had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing, giggling slightly through his nose. Marshall kept it up and Mark opened his mouth to tell him to stop but all that came out was a loud bout of laughter. Mark swatted at his hands desperately and Marshall, chuckling, stopped.

"I'm definitely marking that area as `Very Ticklish'." he grinned.

Mark pulled himself right side up, sitting next to Marshall. "What, have you got some kind of Mark-Chart that you mark these things on?" Mark asked.

Marshall grinned wickedly. "Mhm." He leaned in, nuzzling the side of Mark's neck. "This spot here." He said softly, his lips against Mark's skin, sending a shiver down the filmmaker's spine, "Is `Extremely Sensitive'." Marshall then let his fingers slide gently down Mark's neck, before resting at the edge of his collarbone. "And this is one of your best `Hot Spots'." He informed Mark.

Mark raised his eyebrow. "Are you so sure about that?" he asked.

The photographer chuckled, sliding Mark's shirt to the side as he moved his mouth over the spot, sucking ever so gently. Mark's head fell back as he arched, a harsh gasp of pleasure escaping his lips before he could stop himself.

"Yes, definitely a `Hot Spot'". Marshall laughed.

Mark mock-glared at him. "This isn't fair. You shouldn't be allowed to know all my spots." He pouted slightly. Marshall laughed again, kissing Mark until he smiled.

"Oh, don't worry, Babes, I don't know _all_ your spots… yet. I wouldn't mind finding a few more, while you're here though." he teased, sliding his tongue lightly behind Mark's earlobe, provoking a breathy moan. Mark turned his head, kissing Marshall as he slid a hand up the Latino's shirt.

"Only so long as I get to make a chart of my own." He breathed. Marshall kissed him again.

"Oh, definitely, Babes."

LINELINE

Marshall lay on the couch, scowling slightly, as he stared up at the ceiling.

"You sure you don't want a hit?" Mark asked gently.

"No. You sure you do?" he challenged.

Mark shrugged helplessly. "Yeah…I mean, what's the big deal?"

"The big deal? Have you seen Reye's arm recently?" Marshall suddenly demanded, sitting up.

Reye turned to glare at him. "Marsh, please, don't bring that shit up again."

"No. I'm really getting tired of this. Show him, Reye. Show Mark your arm. Let him see!"

Mark stared in stunned interest at Marshall, having only very rarely seen him angry. Then he looked over at Reye, who was staring at the spoon and syringe she had been readying and fiddling idly with her sleeve.

"This is ridiculous…it's not that bad." she said softly.

"Then why don't you show him?"

With sudden defiance in her eyes, she pulled her left sleeve up all the way past her elbow and Mark stared at it for the first time in weeks. Track marks and bruising covered her forearm with more bruising on her upper arm. The worst area, though, was the bend in her arm, the spot of skin appearing horrific due to the few spots that looked almost like deep open sores and the skin that wasn't puckered with sores or marks was fully bruised.

"Holy shit." Mark murmured.

"Its not that bad." Reye muttered defensively.

"Not that bad? Damn it, Reye, look at your arm! Look at it!" Marshall raised his voice. "You cannot sit there and tell me that's not that bad! Admit it, hermanita, you're using too much."

Reye stared down at her arm. "Its…a little bad to look at. But I'm okay…really."

Marshall stared at her for a long moment before looking back at Mark. "So…you two still want to shoot up?"

Reye chewed her lip for a moment, pulling her sleeve back down. "So we'll chase. I'll cool it with the needles for a while."

"That's a good idea." Mark finally spoke up.

Marshall looked between the two of them for a moment before sighing and walking out of the room. Reye took the moment to start setting her and Mark up to chase. Suddenly Marshall came back in and tossed a tube of Neosporin in front of Reye.

"Before you chase, I want you to coat your arm in that. And I want you to use it a few times a day until those sores heal up." he said softly. Then he sat down on the floor, pulling Mark to sit between his legs. "And make enough for me, I'm gonna chase, too."

Mark wasn't sure why he sounded so resigned.

LINELINE

_Lovely lovely lovely_. Mark sighed. He'd been trying to find a word that described heroin. Lovely was pretty close.

He had never realized just how much he worried and stressed about things until he experienced these moments without any of that. He had never realized that there was always some part of him constantly upset or hurting until he lived those few hours without that pain. And that kind of feeling, that freedom from all of that...unpleasantness, gave him a kind of euphoria that he was incapable of feeling without H. He had forgotten that you could exist without painful emotions, stress, and worrying. He hadn't known that you could actually feel _that _good. And it was getting to a point where any time he wasn't high was a reminder of how much just living _hurt_. It made him realize that heroin didn't ever have to be a bad thing.

_You just need the control. If they all just realized how much better this is…they'd never ask me to quit. _

LINELINELINELINE

_That bastard. That goddamn bastard!_ Roger slammed his fist into the wall before leaning his forehead against it, exhausted.

Mark hadn't been there when he'd gone to pick him up. When he'd gone in and asked the manager, he'd been told that the filmmaker had left work almost an hour early.

_I'm such a fucking moron…how could I have thought he'd give in so easily?_

Enraged, Roger had returned to the loft, hoping vainly that Mark would be home. He wasn't surprised when he wasn't, just disappointed.

_That fucking bastard…I can't believe he…Why did I think…I can't believe he lied so fucking well…I can't believe I believed him…I can't believe he's changed so much. _

Roger collapsed on the couch, starring at the mounds of powder on the coffee table. A surge of anger hit him and he violently swiped his arm at them, scattering the powder over the floor.

It wasn't as if it mattered. He'd stared at the powder for so long, torn between his dread of being right and knowing Mark had betrayed him and fear of being wrong and tasting heroin for the first time since he had quit almost four years ago. In the end, his need to know had overridden his fear. And now, he just felt anger.

Every bag had contained the same thing: baking soda and brown sugar. He could still taste it on his tongue; bitter salt and rancid sweet. It made him want to vomit.

_I can't believe he's changed so much…_

Roger looked up to stare at the phone. He had their friends' numbers memorized. It would be so easy.

_I told him I would…He knew…and he still lied, still left. All I have to do is call them… maybe they could help…maybe that'd finally be enough to knock some sense into Mark… _

He continued to stare at the phone but made no move to stand up. He'd been thinking about making the calls since he'd realized Mark had never given him any of his stashes.

_A couple fucking phone calls…that's all I need to do…So why can't I do it?_

LINELINELINELINELINELINE

So, what'd you think? Remember, I love specifics and reactions! I'm a little stuck on next chapter, so it might be a few weeks. Reviews would probably greatly help me find inspiration!

Spanish Guide:

**Hermanita** – little sister

PS: So there are more than 20 OCs in this fic, I was wondering…which one is your _least_ favorite? Which OC do you really just kinda not like at all?

PSS: If you want to know what the OCs look like, I got really, REALLY bored a few weeks back and put up pictures of what I imagine they look like on my livejournal account (my sn is PKmaniacs and its my most recent post since I don't use LJ often. If you actually go look at them, let me know what you think :D)

Much Love,  
Di


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